


Spark Fly

by fictive_frolic



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Faeries - Freeform, Fluff, Reader Insert, Smut, thicc thor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 14:26:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20893562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictive_frolic/pseuds/fictive_frolic
Summary: Thor has body issues and a Princess to save. What could go wrong?





	1. Chapter 1

Thor frowned at his brother as he strolled into the Throne room of new Asgard grinning, “What trouble are you making now, Loki?” he asked. “Brother why the sour expression? I have just solved half of your problems. I have found you a wife.” Thor pinched the bridge of his nose, “How does that solve our problems?” Loki sighed, “You need an heir and a spare and an alliance with a powerful Midgardian realm would strengthen our ability to protect new Asgard.” Thor stood and walked to the fireplace. It had been 2 years since the battle with Thanos and the reverse of the Snap. The king stared into the fire and sighed, “For my self, I have no interest in a political marriage but for my people it makes sense.” Loki was outlining details but Thor was hardly listening. Too busy with his own thoughts. The god reflected that a political alliance might be the best he could manage. He didn’t exactly have the body of a romantic hero anymore. The depression that had gotten him to this state had lifted but the burden of the ruling left little time for the relentless training that had given him his chiseled physique before. He didn’t exactly want for lovers but those lovers didn’t really want him. They just wanted to say they had slept with him and they left him cold.

Loki was describing the girl to him a matter of factly and Thor waved the words away with an impetuous gesture. “Her looks are immaterial to me. So long as she has good birthing hips and common sense,” Loki snorted, “A tall order from most women to have both.”

hor rolled his eyes, “Arrange the meeting, brother. And assemble a delegation. We may be a small kingdom but if we’re to do this I would have it done properly.” Loki bowed slightly and walked out of the room. He was sure Thor had not heard a word he said. He was also sure that one look at this unfortunate creature and his Brother would move heaven and Earth to see her be his. Thor always did have a soft spot for lost causes.

Weeks pass and terms are decided. The meeting is to be in fairy. The Asgardians are coming to meet you and you’re terrified. Your fingers won’t stop trembling as you brush your long hair. This is your one chance to get out of this castle. Your one chance to escape the king who holds you, hostage, while calling you his foster child. You don’t even care if you love your husband. You just want to see your people safe and you cannot be a queen without a king. “Princess,” a page says bowing to you, “The Asgardians and their delegates will be here soon. The king bids you come to the stables. Your mount is ready.” You swallow hard and turn to smile at him, golden eyes calm, “Very well, thank you,” you say as you stand, willing your knees not to tremble.

Your foster father does not speak to you as you enter the stables and a groom helps you onto your mount, an unearthly white stag with silver antlers and silver hooves. The King is large and forbidding, a Night Court King in trust fashion dressed in dark leathers and red trappings. His mount a large, battle-scarred black bear with wicked teeth. He lives up to his Title as the King of Fears and he and his delegates stand in stark contrast to your delicate frame and pale blue dress on your gentle stag. Your people are of forests. The Sidhe of Story and Song. Their banners bore snarling bears. Your one lone banner bore the emblem of an oak tree growing from a book on a field of white. Your foster Father’s red eyes look at you and he grunts in approval as you sit demurely on your stag, hands folded in your lap. You need no saddle or reins. The Stag, Declan, would sooner run off a cliff than allow you to fall from his back. He is a spirit of the Forests you played in as a child and feels duty-bound to protect you as the last member of the Royal family still breathing. Madoc, your foster father urges his bear forward and you take a breath, willing yourself into calm you do not feel, following beside him and slightly behind in your proper place. 

Thor, Loki, Bruce, and Steve wait. This is not a war party but Thor still feels compelled to bring good back up that won’t immediately read as a threat. This night court king does not engender feelings of trust. When the party appears over the rise, Thor and Loki ride out to meet the King and his advisor in the middle of the field. “You seem to have brought a large assembly for such a happy occasion,” Thor said lightly. The Night Court King laughed, “We have a precious treasure to guard,” he said gesturing back towards you. “It would be a tragedy if she were to come to harm under my care. I am duty-bound to protect the Princess of Story and Song. To fail in that duty would be a grievous insult to her house.” Thor’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at you, quiet and demure a tightness in your eyes that contradicted the softness of your mouth and the relaxed lines of your shoulders. Thor inclined his head, “Very well,” he said by way of accepting this circumstance. It made sense if you weren’t a fighter and he didn’t think you were. Your bearing was regal. Elegant. But Thor knew fighters. He knew warriors. And that was not your strength. 

Thor and his party followed Madoc back into the castle keep. It had a dark grandeur that while impressive was cold and forbidding. He watched your face as you passed through the gates. Your face betrayed nothing. It was still schooled into a mild, pleasant expression. Vague polite disinterest as was expected of a Sidhe Princess who had not yet been introduced properly to a suitor. But your shoulders stiffened slightly as if the change in energy made you uncomfortable. Grooms swarmed into view to take reins and to help hold mounts. A groom stepped forward to help you and Thor stepped forward, dismissing the groom and offering to lift you down. You accept his help with a smile of thanks, “Thank you, my lord.” You say softly, not meeting his eyes as your feet touch the ground. Thor feels his heart speed up a fraction. You are lovely up close with your golden eyes and dark red curls, a spatter of freckles over your nose and cheeks. Your waist is corseted but you have the suggestion of lovely curves. Your voice is lilting and musical. His heart raced and then drops. You are a Princess from a bard’s tale. As if the Norns had taken everything he could want in a princess to look like and assembled you to his orders. And he was this.

It wasn’t as if he expected to love but he would already hand you his heart if you asked for it. As much as he distrusted the Night King in negotiations, he now trusted him less to care for you the way you deserved. Thor unhanded you quickly as soon as he was sure he wouldn’t knock you over when he let go and glanced at Loki, glaring at him. Bruce watched, looking bemused but pleasant and Steve’s face was schooled into careful passivity. 

“Daughter,” Madoc said, his voice growling, “Perhaps you ought to leave the gentlemen to discuss matters. I believe the children are in the hall. Perhaps you ought to entertain them.” You drop into a curtsey, making no protest, “Yes, father.” You say as if the words don’t burn in your mouth. You’re gone, bare feet silent on the dirt yard as you make your way across the keep, two large guards silently falling in on either side of you. It was enough for Thor and Loki both to understand. You are not a foster child. You are a hostage. A privileged hostage but a hostage none the less. “Come,” Madoc said, “I have a dinner laid out for us.” The Night King dismissed his servants with a wave of his hand and jerked his head towards the hall. “How did you come to foster Princess Y/N?” Thor asked, falling into step beside him. “An unfortunate dispute between the Queen of the Forests and I,” he said, “A war that got out of hand.” His tone indicates that it was in fact not unfortunate as far as Madoc was concerned. “After the Queen and her human consort perished, I took the care of the princess into my hands personally,” he said grandly. “Thus giving you control of her lands,” Loki said. “Until she comes of age this Samhain,” Madoc said nodding, “Though She cannot rule on her own. Not as a half breed. She requires a king and such an arrangement I think would be beneficial to both Asgard and The Court of Fears.” Thor raised an eyebrow, “With her stuck in Asgard you would remain as Steward. Controlling the Forests of Sighs.” Madoc said nothing but shrugged. 

Thor shot Loki another look and the prince shrugged. She was eligible and in a perilous enough situation not to put up too much of a fuss. Thor toyed with his glass of wine, thinking. “And if I did not leave you as her steward?” he challenged lightly, “If we united the courts of Asgard and the forests of Sighs?” Madoc shrugged, “Anything could happen,” he said, “Though you would find the Forests a hard master. For all their pretensions at art and beauty, the people of that kingdom are fierce and you would find it hard to rule over indeed.” Thor made a thoughtful sound. He knew Sidhe could not outright lie but they could bend the truth until it broke on its own.

The rest of the dinner was chatter while Madoc allowed the Visiting King to digest this information. Pages showed them to their rooms and a War council of sorts convened in Thor’s room. “I don’t trust him,” Steve declared, throwing himself into a chair. Bruce nodded, “But if we don’t get that girl out of here she may be in trouble fast. I wouldn’t put it past that tyrant to marry her to himself.” Loki shook his head, “Consanguinity,” he said, “They’re too closely related. He has Princes he could have married her to otherwise. Right now he’s banking on her Honor. He means to make her a vassal beholden to him for his years of hospitality.” Thor watched out the window at the alien terrain and sighed, “Loki this was meant to SOLVE my problems. Not cause more.” Loki shrugged, “The forests of Sighs are valuable,” he said, “And their Princess seems to fit your standards.” Thor was glad his back was to the room and they could not see his cheeks color. 

The woman did indeed have nice hips. “What standards?” Steve asked stretching. “Birthing hips and Common sense,” Loki said in a devastatingly accurate imitation of Thor’s voice. Bruce choked and Steve smirked. “Well,” Steve said, “If she’s survived this place since childhood I’d imagine she does have some sense.” Thor turned to face them when the sniggering died down, “Before I decide anything, I will speak with her,” he said, “While a political alliance is not- not my desired way to find a wife, I cannot in good conscience leave the girl in peril. But I will not take her from one untenable situation and put her in another she vehemently objects to. She deserves that much dignity.”

You sit in your rooms, a bevy of ladies in waiting to gossip around you as you stitch. The laughter is cruel like always and you guard your tongue. There is no one in your rooms you can trust to speak your mind. No one is impressed with the Asgardian King and his retinue. They seemed to treat him as a colossal joke. Still, as kings went, he seemed to be a good man. He had kind eyes and the hands-on your waist had been gentle. There could be worse matches. Much worse. You thought thinking of Madoc’s hungry eyes with a shiver. 

The next night, there was a great celebration to welcome their distinguished guests and your official introduction to your potential betrothed. You entered the Hall on Madoc’s arm. His massive black-clad self, dwarfing your tiny white-clad frame, making you look like a child. Thor took your hand at the bottom of the stairs and kissed it lightly, making his formal introduction to you. You blush prettily much to the amusement of the crowd and Thor sweeps you into a dance, away from Madoc where he could speak with you. 

The god reflected at in another life, in another body, he might be whispering seductive bits of nonsense in your ear but for now, he takes the time to learn about your situation, cautioning you to keep smiling and pretend nothing was amiss. He learned that you were indeed a hostage and that when you disobeyed Madoc in the smallest ways your people suffered, something that you found unacceptable and so you obeyed. Instantly and without question. You confessed softly that sometimes you thought it might be better for everyone if you simply died making Thor tighten his grip on your hand slightly. Thor leaned forward and whispered into your ear, “Please, Princess. Don’t give up. Not now.” And the gold in your eyes turned over bright, tears threatening to fall. “Y/N,” he murmured, “Smile. Nothing is wrong, remember. I can give you a home. Away from this but I need you to trust me.” You look up at him, smile fixed back in place, “It seems I do not have much choice, your Majesty.”

Thor returned you to Madoc, and the way his clawed hand looked on your arm made the God’s skin crawl. He wanted to whisk you away then, secret you under his cloak and smuggle your home but he forced himself to go back to his party. “Loki,” he said quietly, “Get word to Brunhilde. See how quickly we can arrange a wedding.” Loki blinked but said nothing. Thor’s face was forbidding and the storm clouds were gathering in his eyes, sparks at his fingertips. The ride home the morning after the feast was silent. Each man knew what they had to do. Thor felt himself bracing for the battle to come and sighed. He just hoped this plan worked.


	2. Chapter 2

Thor stood at the fireplace, leaning on the mantle. The hearth was cold, but it gave him a moment to gather his thoughts. The delegation from Fairy was arriving today with you in tow. The wedding was a month away, but Thor had managed to convince Madoc that giving you a month to adjust to being in a new kingdom would help you to ease the transition. As such, several of the Avengers had come to help him ensure your safety while you were there. He could feel the expectant stares as they waited to be told what to do, and he sighed, “I don’t trust this King of Fears,” he said finally, “I don’t trust his intentions, and I don’t trust that he won’t kill her while she’s here to make sure Asgard takes the fall.” Natasha snorted, “This all seems like a lot of work for a political alliance,” she said. Thor turned to face the spy and smiled a little, “Perhaps,” he said, “But I cannot just leave the poor girl to rot in that place. Even if it isn’t love, for her to have survived this long, she can at the very least be diplomatic. There could be worse matches.” Bruce nodded, “It doesn’t hurt that she’s pretty.” Natasha smirked, “Now it makes sense,” she teased, smacking Bruce’s arm.

Steve stood and sighed, “We all have our assignments. Natasha, Wanda, Carol, you three are going to situate yourselves in her household. Bucky, Peter, Loki, eyes, and ears. I don’t want Madoc to breathe without us knowing about it. Sam, Rocket, and I are going to run interference. No one gets to the Princess, not a message, not a gift, not a nothing unless it comes from one of us.” Valkyrie nodded, her job was to watch Thor, but that went without saying. She thought this was stupid and dangerous, but the way Thor looked when he thought of you was enough to make her hold her tongue. The poor man was in love, and he didn’t even realize it yet. 

Thor felt his heart race when he saw the banners on the hill. He looked for you and found you, your petite frame and red hair side saddle on your white stag. “I think I’m going to be sick,” Thor said swallowing hard. Rocket rolled his eyes, and Loki laughed, “And you didn’t even want to go to Fairy,” he mocked. Thor scowled but said nothing. Punching Loki in the mouth wouldn’t actually stop him talking, and he had a feeling it might give you the wrong impression of his temper. There are horns and drums, fanfare befitting a future queen. Children hold flowers out to you, and you accept them with smiles and musical laughter. It pierces Thor to his core. He’s never heard you laugh before and he’d give anything to keep hearing it. Thor moves forward to help you off the Stag, willing his hands not to tremble as he sets them on your waist.

You smile at him shyly, not quite meeting his eyes and blushing prettily. Thor lets you go when he’s sure of your footing, and you curtsey, “Thank you, my lord,” you say formally, “Your kingdom is beautiful.” You mean it. It feels so open and bright after Madoc’s keep that you could cry. It almost feels like the Forests of Sighs. Somewhere you barely remember in dreams. Thor smiles at you and tucks a stray lock of your hair behind your ear, “I think, under the circumstances, you might call me Thor,” he murmured. You look up at him, briefly and chance enjoying the feel of his fingers brushing the side of your face, closing your eyes and leaning into the touch. Or starting to before a prim cough behind you reminds you to pull away.

Thor swallows hard and turns, tucking your hand into the crook of his arms, presenting you properly to his people and his household. He tucks Carol, Natasha, and Wanda into your household by telling you gently that he thought to have human ladies in waiting might help you to adjust to being in the human world. You smile at them and thank them for their assistance and any resistance they might have had, melts. You look like a deer about to bolt under your polite smile and wide golden eyes. The Stag you rode in on hovers close to your other side and seems to be taking a measure of the assembled people. He makes a soft noise, and you turn, patting his nose. “Thank you, old friend.” You say softly, kissing his forehead. 

The Stag closes his eyes, and you rest your forehead on him for just a second, silently listening to what he had to say. Thor watched unsure what to do until a moment later, when you look up and chuckle, “Wicked thing,” you admonish, “Behave in the stable.” You hand the reins to a waiting groom and Declan follows him. You turn, blushing slightly, “My apologies.” You murmur. “Declan does not like to be kept waiting when he has something to say.” Thor smiled a little, “He speaks to you?” You bite your lip thoughtfully, “After a fashion. He doesn’t use anything as primitive as words.” Thor tucked your hand back in the crook of his arm, “And what did he have to say, my lady?” You blush and smile, “He bid me to tell you that he’s excited to explore the woods and that he is glad that you are giving me a welcome that befits The House of Story and Song. He was afraid you would remember that I am also the would be Queen of the Forests of Sighs.” Thor laughed, a booming belly laugh that made you start. “I am glad he approves, I do not think I would like to meet those horns if he disapproved.” Thor raised your soft hand to his lips, making you blush and surrendered you to Natasha, asking her to show you to your rooms.

You follow Natasha quietly, keeping your eyes open, assessing every move the ladies made to make a plan. The way they flanked you felt like Madoc’s guards and the thought made you shiver reflexively. They weren’t even here, and you felt their hands on you, and you could smell their rancid breath. You swallow hard, clasping your hands together to hide the tremble in your fingers. Thor might have promised you a home, but there was no binding hospitality vow here. The only thing that had offered you any protection with Madoc had no power here, and you feel sick. Natasha opens the door to your rooms for you and steps back so you can inspect them. They are small but cozy. Serviceable. Not so cold and unwelcoming as your old rooms in Madoc’s keep. The ladies seem unsure of what to do and your neck prickles in trepidation. You smile anyway, “Please, sit. Make yourselves comfortable. I shall try not to make too much of a fuss.” They smile at you and set about finding things to do with themselves. You wander over to the instruments that someone had laid carefully along the wall for you. It had been a long time since you were allowed to use the gifts of your house and you bite your lip, unsure if they were there for you to use or if they were a trap. Madoc had long ago forbidden you from playing, singing, or telling tales and you itch to touch the strings of the harp. The instrument calls out to you like a siren. You reach out cautiously, fingers inches away. You can feel the call to play as clearly as you can feel the beat of your heart. If this is a trap, it is cruel. You pull your hand away and close your eyes, chastising yourself. Madoc could have eyes anywhere. Any disobedience means your people will suffer and no song is worth that. 

Natasha and Carol watch the longing in your face as you look at the instruments Thor had painstakingly selected for you and Carol clears her throat, “Your Majesty, will you play for us?” she asked. “I am only a highness,” you correct, thankful you had not touched the harp, “and I cannot play.” It wasn’t a lie, not really. As a fey, even a half breed, you could not lie. “The Princess of story and song cannot play?” Wanda asked incredulously. You say nothing. You do not have to answer them, and silence can be a shield all its own. You turn to the window chastising yourself harshly. The silence stretches on, the knot in your stomach twisting tighter every moment. The knock on the door is a relief. It makes you turn so quickly Natasha reaches out to catch you if you topple over. “Enter,” you say, your voice sharper than you intend it to be and you wince. “Please,” you add in a much gentler tone. Rocket stands in the doorway, “Her Highness is wanted in the Throne room,” he says, “The lunkhead wants to speak with her.” He offers you a hand to take being too small to provide you with his arm and you take it, “Thank you,” she said, “I’m afraid I do not know the way.” Rocket pats your hand, something in you gentles him, “I’ll lead you, Princess.” You smile your thanks politely, and he leads you down the hall. You are quiet, and so Rocket stays quiet. He can hear the way your heart is pounding, and for once, he chooses not to make it worse. At the large oak doors to the Throne room, Rocket pats your hand, “Thor is waiting for you,” he said, sketching an awkward bow. Thor had tried to teach them all how to behave with you, but the lessons had been hurried and too full of jokes for any of them to learn much more than a few basic manners. They’d all gotten so used to seeing Thor as a friend that none of them could see him as a king. Meeting you up close made it all weird. They weren’t sure how to address him when you were near, though, so far as they had seen, you seemed to just accept things as they were. 

You took a deep breath and gestured for the guards to open the door. If you were about to die, you wanted it over with quickly. They complied, and you walk through, feet bare and silent on the flagstones. “Your majesty,” you say quietly, dropping into a curtsey. Thor tried to raise you, and you stayed still, “Your Majesty, I only ask that if you kill me, you kill me quickly and send my body home.” Thor stopped dead in his tracks and dropped his hands from your shoulders, watching silent tears his the flagstones for a moment. “Please, don’t send my body to Madoc for him to disgrace,” you plead. Thor swallows hard and holds out his hands to you, “Y/N,” he says quietly, “I’m not going to kill you. I’d sooner stab myself through the heart than raise a hand to you.” When you don’t move his heart cracks for you. You’ve been so strong for so long that you just can’t believe anything could ever change. “Please, sweetheart,” he tries his voice hardly a whisper, “Come and sit with me. Let me explain. When I promised you a home, I meant it.” It was his endearment that made you look up. It had been so long since anyone was kind to you. “Take my hands and come sit with me a while,” he said, “I have much to tell you.” You hesitate for a moment but take the hand he offered you. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he said, leading you to the small dinner he had laid out to give you time to talk to him. He pauses at the chair he holds for you and cups your cheek in his hands, wiping away tears with his thumbs. You close your eyes and freeze. 

He’s warm, and his hands are gentle. It’s been a long time since anyone has touched you gently. Thor can read your history in your face. In your freeze and the conflicting feelings that practically radiate out of you. At that moment, he decides that you are his. He can’t abide anyone else touching you. He can’t sleep at night if your golden eyes aren’t the first thing he sees in the morning. He sits on the chair and holds his arms out to you, forgetting for a moment that he’s self-conscious of his belly and the softness of his chest and thighs, “Come here, sweetheart?” he asks softly. He desperately wants to hold you. To murmur his plans in your ear and give you a safe place to hide against his shoulder. After what feels like forever you take his hand and he pulls you gently into his lap, cuddling you close. Once he has you, firmly but gently in his arms, your head cradled on his shoulder against his neck, you sigh, and Thor chuckles softly. “That’s it, my love. Just let me hold you awhile.” He traces nonsense patterns against the back of your neck, and you close your eyes, nestling into him, resting a hand on the swell of his stomach. Thor feels himself blush, instantly remembering how embarrassed he is of his body. He wants to stand up. He wants to order you off of him but he just… I can’t. Your softness and the feel of your hair against his cheek, your need to simply be held properly, keep him glued to the spot. 

When he recovers his voice, he murmurs his plans in your ear, trying to reassure you. He tells you about Nat, Carol, and Wanda. He tells you about what they plan for Madoc. He tells you everything. When you pull away to look at him, he loosens his grip. Your eyes are severe and a darker shade of gold in the firelight, “What happens if we fail?” you ask softly. Thor smiles a little and touches the hardened lines of your jaw, “Failure is not an option, sweetheart. We will not fail.” He wants to kiss you. Your lips look as plump and delicious as the rest of you. The vibrant autumnal colors of your features are complemented by the ripe fullness of your figure and the earnestness in your eyes is stoking a fire in his chest that had long been going cold. He can feel some of his powers coming to the surface unbidden and stomps them down when he sees you start to lean into him. He’s never had to use his skills that way before, and he won’t start with you. You’ll come to his bed of your own accord or not at all. 

You’re his Queen, and he won’t dishonor you by taking you on a chair in his throne room. You lean back, confusion in your eyes for a moment and then discomfort when you realize what had just happened. Thor lets you up, helping you gently off his lap, “Dinner is getting cold,” he said cheeks coloring. He settles you in your chair and pushes it in gently before taking his own seat. You serve yourself carefully. Fresh fruit and a few vegetables but none of the other dishes and Thor frowns, “Is none of this to your liking?” he asked concerned. “I cannot abide food cooked in iron,” you say shrugging. Thor winces, “I’m so sorry. I thought that your half-blood status might change that.” You shake your head, “I am afraid not, the iron would burn my throat terribly.” Thor stands, “Allow me to have them make you something you can eat darling. You need not subsist on fruit and some carrots.” You shake your head, “Fortunately I am not hungry,” you murmur. It was true. Your nerves were frayed to breaking, and you felt raw and sore. Thor sat back down, nodding. “Very well, sweetheart. But I will make other provisions for you tomorrow,” he said, “I will not have you going hungry because I made an assumption… Please. This is your home. Tell the kitchens your likes and dislikes. Anything that is here is yours to use; however, you wish.” He bit his tongue to avoid saying, “Myself included,” he really needed to keep himself in check. You were not some courtier he meant to bed. You were to be his true wife and you deserved a soft bed and gentleness. Regardless of what desires you stoked in him.

“Are the instruments in my room a trap?” you ask so quietly that the god takes an extra beat to answer. “No, sweetheart. Those are for you. Madoc’s strictures hold no power here. Whatever he had forbidden you he cannot use to hurt you. Or your people.” You do cry then earnest tears of joy. It had been so long since you had used your powers that you feared they had abandoned you. Thor does not move to hold you but he does ask someone to bring you your harp, anxious to chafe the life back into you, anxious to give you the will to fight again. His research had told him much. Your mother’s council, though disbanded had been trying to keep the forests alive. Trying to keep a throne for you to come back to. They had sent the instruments and the god was ready to hear you play. Even on Asgard, they had heard of your house and he had long wondered what of the stories were true. He smiled as you took your place, head bent and eyes closed.

He smiled until you started to play. Even after 12 years, the call to the strings was strong and you played with such emotion and intensity that Thor’s own meal sat forgotten. He wept at the soaring highs and the darkest lows. You were telling him a story. A story that had no words but painted a picture with such intensity that the whole of his household could feel it. They were drawn to the throne room, standing in mute awe as you played until the very last note. Tears fell all around and the applause startled you out of your reverie, a mix of emotions on your face. You looked to your betrothed, biting your lip as if you expected retribution and Thor only beamed at you, “Well done, my love.” he murmured, crossing the room to kiss your hands only to see your fingers bleeding. He gasped and tilted your chin up gently looking for an answer, “I guess I lost my callouses,” you say, blushing slightly.


	3. Chapter 3

After the first night, things go smoother for you. Thor watches in fascination as you smooth over household issues he did not even know were issues. Things are more harmonious, the budgets are more balanced, and every day you take care of some headache for him that he had no idea how to solve. In the evenings as you ate dinner together, your head bent over an instrument, the god said a prayer to the Norns for their wisdom in bringing you to him. 

The Avengers accept your presence and so do Thor’s people, mostly without question. Your skills are mostly useless in combat, but your kind heart and the joy that just being near you seem to bring to Thor earns you their affection. Rocket is especially taken with you, seeking you out in the afternoons as you sit with New Asgard’s children at your feet, spinning out a tale to entertain them. He often stood nearby, listening. He didn’t know what about you was so soothing; perhaps it was the way you never treated him like a pet or some dumb animal. When he spoke, you listened, fixing your golden eyes on him calmly. You accepted flowers from Groot. You were just… soothing. And somehow, you always knew when the tricky spot behind his right ear needed to be scratched. Thor watched you spinning out a tale and smiled to himself. The children were quiet, and the Avengers nearby were similarly enthralled. You held your audience in the palm of your delicate hand, and Thor realized at that moment that for him, this was his truest love match. You were what he had been meant to find on Midgard, of that he was sure. 

You drew this installment of your tale to a close to the groans of the children and stood easily from your stool, smiling as one small girl brought you a violet. You picked her up, laughing and touched your forehead to hers tenderly, letting her put the flower behind your ear. Thor couldn’t see his face, but he was confident he was giving you what young Peter Parker had called heart eyes. He couldn’t wait to see you cuddling your own children. His children. He’d kept his physical distance from you aside from thoughtful touches and kissing your hands. He was afraid that if he started touching you, he would not be able to rein in his powers and desires. Thor had his guesses about the parts of your past you kept hidden, and he felt that patience was going to be necessary. There was something about the way you started when anyone touched you unexpectedly. The way you still flinched at raised voices or someone’s hand passing to close to your face. It broke his heart when he saw it. 

You dressed to fade into the background in the mortal clothing that you had procured for yourself with Natasha and Carol. Baggy clothing, hoodies, and jeans converse sneakers. Sandals. Functional buns and braids in your hair. You seem to want to hide, and for now, Thor doesn’t push. He doesn’t insist on the dresses and blouses he’s dying to see your curves in. After years of standing out as a way to keep you isolated, you seem to want nothing more than to fit in.  
You can feel Thor’s eyes on you as you walk across the yard headed towards the stable to take a ride on Declan. It was nice being able to do whatever you wanted whenever you felt like it. Thor had asked that you took one of his friends with you when you went out so that they could protect you if anything were to happen. You assented to his request with no fuss. The creature called Rocket and your “Ladies in Waiting” was your favorite companions. They allowed you your silence. They let you be with no questions. 

Carol and Natasha fall into step with you as you walk and you greet them with your usual quiet smile. This place is confusing but comfortable. Not quite home but lovely in its way. Your betrothed was a puzzle. You could feel his eyes on you, tracking you. You didn’t mind it, his watching you. His eyes were hungry but not… not the same way Madoc’s had been. You did not know how you felt. You liked it when he touched you; his warm, calloused hands were gentle and reassuring. You often thought about how he pulled you onto his lap and held you. You hadn’t expected to feel so safe with his arms around you and his fingers in your hair, massaging away your fear. His middle was soft. Comfortable to be cushioned against as he held you. He was just comfortable. That was the right word for it. His hands hadn’t strayed from your waist, and your hair and the deep rumble of his voice had almost lulled you to sleep like the distant thunder of a summer storm rolling in.

You desperately wanted him to hold you that way again, but how did one ask for such a thing? He’d been so careful. So polite with you that you felt almost as if he might have found you wanting. That thought made your stomach twist. You had no experience beyond fear and pain and discomfort. You were afraid he’d be disappointed. More importantly, you were fearful that if he ever found out… You winced unable to keep your thoughts to yourself entirely. Natasha laid a hand gently on your arm, “Y/N?” she asked softly, “You know you can talk to us, right?"Carol took your arm on your other side, "Thor is our friend, it’s true;” Carol said, “But whatever you say to us doesn’t need to go further than right here.” You shake your head and smile, “It’s nothing, really.” you say. It sounded off even to your ears but something. This fear was too much to confide in anyone. Too intimate. You didn’t know really why it all felt so wrong, but it did.

Natasha and Carol trade looks over your head, and they let you keep your thoughts to yourself. They chatted around you, keeping up commentary on the others. They had their suspicions about what you were thinking about. They’d seen you in the quiet moments in your rooms lost in thought when you were just relaxed enough to let some emotion show on your face. They knew Thor was in love with you. So in love that there was next to nothing you could ever say or do to turn him from you. The King was wrapped around your slender fingers, and you’d done it without even trying. It had been sweet to watch his fumbling attempts at doting on you. Loki had been appalled, “Gods,” he snorted, watching Thor blush when you shyly took his hand as you walked, “It’s like he got fat and forgot how to seduce a woman. This is almost pathetic.” Natasha had shaken her head, “He’s not trying to seduce the Princess,” she’d said, “If he tried that she’d run away from him.” Steve nodded in agreement, “And whatever he’s doing, she does not exactly hate it." 

You wait for The ladies to get their horses saddled before swinging yourself astride Declan’s broad back, patting his neck to tell him to go forward. "How do you stay up there without a saddle?” Carol asked, urging her horse on with difficulty. “The same way you stay astride with a saddle,” you say chuckling. When she looked confused, you add, “With my thighs.” Natasha laughs and tugs the end of your braid fondly making you realize how bawdy that sounded and you blush scarlet. “Though Declan wouldn’t let me fall,” you say, “He is a spirit of the forests where I was born. Of the forests, my family is tasked with protecting.” You pat the Stag’s neck. “I am the last of my house, and so he feels he must protect me to protect his forest.” Natasha opens her mouth to ask a question, and you smile a little, “I am not my mother’s only child. But I am her youngest child. The day Madoc’s army came, I was at her feet. She was teaching me something… I do not recall what.” The Stag snuffled and snorted, and you sigh. “When they breached the wall, She slung me across Declan’s back and bid him run. And so he did. He tried to make it to the next court where I might be safely hidden, but it was not to be. So he stayed with me, doing what he could to keep me from any major harm." 

Carol watches you for a long moment, your posture straight and your hands resting on your thighs as if you did not just tell them about an escape from certain death on the back of a magic deer and finally asked softly, "How many siblings did you have?” she asked. “Six. Haldora, Jamie, Callum, Alayne, Oak, and Rowan.” Just speaking their names hurt after so long keeping them locked away. You look up, turning your face to the sun and take a deep breath, willing yourself to stay composed. There are no more questions after that. You ride along in silence, trying not to overthink about the day of the siege and the sounds of the screams. You stop suddenly when you hear a sound. It is a soft noise, barely noticeable above the forest sound. Declan kneels to allow you to slide off his back easily and waits, snuffling. You move through the brush silently and lift a very injured fox kit from the bush, cradling it in your arms murmuring soothing nonsense in a language that is decidedly not human. The creature should, by rights, be snarling and snapping in pain, but it is not. It nestles close to you, and you sit sideways on Declan’s back, “Back the way we came, old friend.” you say, light authority in your voice. The Stag obeys, and Carol and Nat follow. You hold the fox kit gently all the way home and carry it straight to the stable to begin to heal the poor creature. 

In the stable, Carol and Nat leave you be going to have a drink and soothe the discomfort of knowing more concrete details about your past. Thor sees them without you and has a moment of panic. The girls laugh a little, “Your lady is safe,” Carol said, “In fact, she’s brought home a new pet.” They tell Thor about the fox kit that you carried home in your arms and subsequently tease him about the way his face softened, and he had almost literal heart eyes. Thor blushes and excuses himself, going in search of you. 

He watches you from the stable door, your musical voice bringing magic into being. When the kit was asleep in your arms, on her back and practically snoring tired from being hurt, he walks towards you, “New pet, sweetheart?” he said, a soft smile on his face. You look up at him, shy and blushing, “She needed help,” you say, “I’m sorry. I should have asked you.” Thor caressed your jaw softly and kissed your forehead, “You have such a loving heart,” he murmured, “I could never be angry at that.” He watches as your lips part in surprise, and you smile at him, and he aches in ways he hasn’t since he was a boy first in love. He can’t stop himself; he caresses your lower lip with his thumb and steps slightly closer to you. Several emotions flit across your face and then nothing. You stand wooden and panicked, pupils were blown wide and blood pounding. Thor stops. Just stops. Dropping his hand from you and moving back. “Sweetheart,” he breathes, “I’m sorry. Please don’t be afraid. Not of me.” Thor sits down on a bench and holds out his arms to you, when you stumble forward he scoops you gently and kisses your hair. “Whatever they did to you was not your fault,” he said. “It’s not your fault, and I love you,” he reassured. When the tears start falling, he only rocks you softly, his tears sliding down his cheeks into his beard.  
He doesn’t know how long he holds you that way. But by the time your tears are spent, and you sleep, the stars are out. He carries you not to your bed but his, unwilling to let you go. He takes off your sandals but otherwise does not undress you before pulling you to his side your head on his chest and the fox kit curled on his soft, cuddly belly, tail over her nose.

Thor doesn’t sleep well that night, despite holding the plushness of your body the way he’s longed to since that first night. His thoughts are murderous. That man is going to pay for the thing he’s done. The things he let happen to you. He strokes your hair, rubbing the back of your neck to keep you soothed into a restful sleep, his deep voice rumbling stories to you. His exploits as a boy. Things about his mother. Anything to keep your monsters at bay, if only for a little while. Anything to keep you comfortable in his arms a little longer.


	4. Chapter 4

Thor simply does not sleep. He keeps watching over you all night long, holding you against his side and scaring your nightmares away. It’s the best sleep you can remember, and when you stir, murmuring and groggy, Thor feels his chest warm. The Fox kit cuddled on his belly pops her little head up, tail twitching as she yawns. Thor rubs her ears, “I’m glad the both of you slept well,” he meant for it to sound stern but when you look at him all golden eyes and cheeks rosy with sleep he can’t seem to even pretend to be strict with you. 

You sit up slowly blushing and embarrassed, and Thor can only chuckle. “Please don’t run away, sweetheart,” he said softly, “I tucked you in with me because I wanted you near me.” You bite your lip, and Thor smiled ruefully“I know I’m not exactly nice to look at anymore, but, it was nice having you near me.” You look at him sideways, “What are you talking about?” you ask softly, “You’re perfect.” Thor’s cheeks burn, and he wants to sit up and kiss you, but the kit simply will not move off his belly so he can. Thor is momentarily flustered and speechless, so you take your chance. You need to know. You lean down and kiss him. The barest whisper of a kiss across his lips. The god stays very still afraid that if he moves he’ll make you bolt. When you pull away blushing and apologizing, he can only smile at you tenderly, “You can do that as often as you wish. I’ll not object.” You open your mouth to say something, and Thor slowly puts a hand over your mouth, “If you apologize to me for anything I’m going to cancel the wedding,” he teased. Warmth spread through his chest, and he still felt the brush of your lips. He removes his hand and cradles your cheek, rubbing his thumb across your cheekbone. “Did you sleep well?” he asked. “Yes,” you say, “Thank you, Thor.” 

Thor smiles at you, “I’m glad you did, my love.” He pulls you back into the warmth of the covers, and you go willingly, snuggling into his arms. Your new pet watched you with wide eyes, and you croon to her softly as you stroke her head. Thor chuckles and kisses your hair, “What will you call her?” he asked. The fox leans into your hand and closes her eyes, “She tells me her name is Beesha.” The fox yawns and stretches making Thor shift a little bit to get her bony foot out of his liver where she pushed it, with a soft grunt. The Fox pads out of the room and without thinking, you brush a kiss against his belly where Beesha’s hard little foot had made him uncomfortable. It’s just a soft flutter of your lips, but it makes Thor freeze. He’d had at least a score of women to warm his bed since the snap, and none of them had ever kissed his belly. He sighs and has to stop himself from asking you to do it again. It was just so subconscious, a need for you to soothe something that was hurting him. You really didn’t seem to have any problems with his body, and it made him feel… a lot of things. Including some hope for your wedding night. He knew he’d have to take it slow, but he was more than a little afraid that he’d have to convince you to bed him. “I can feel you thinking,” you say softly, “Can I help?” He looks down at your glowing golden eyes, and he wants to unburden himself. He wants to tell you he was afraid you’d not find him attractive, but he doesn’t; instead, he hears himself say, “Kiss me again?”

You can’t deny his request, something in his voice is so quietly pleading that your heart just won’t let you. So you do kiss him. You’re clumsy and inexperienced, but Thor doesn’t care. He makes you lead the kiss and keeps one hand in your hair and the other behind his head. You’re focused and intense, one hand on his chest and the other tentatively on the side of his neck. The god can’t think. All there is is the feel of your lips and the warmth of your body. He’s so enraptured by the feeling of you that he doesn’t even hear the knocking on the door or the door swinging open, “Hey!-” Rocket starts but then stops, startled to see you in Thor’s room and on his bed. The “Hey!” makes you pull away, blushing and shy, and Thor sighs, “What, Rocket?” he asks, sitting up. The Raccoon looks embarrassed, and looks away, “The Girls told me that the… the surprise for her highness is coming a day early.” Thor beams, “Excellent. Inform Loki and the others, I’ll be down to help after I’ve gotten some coffee.” Rocket turns to go, not looking at you. Thor kneels in front of you and cradles your face in his hands, you look beautiful, your lips were swollen from kissing and your cheeks rosy. “Surprise?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow. Thor kisses you quickly and helps you to your feet, “No prying, sweetheart.” he scolded playfully. “I want this to be nice for you,” he said, smiling. “I won’t ask anyone,” you promise, heart still pounding. Is this what it was like to be a wife? Someone looking at you this way? Someone wanting you close? You liked the look in Thor’s eyes, and you chance wrapping your arms around him. You barely come up to his chest, and when you hug him, your cheek rests on his belly. The god doesn’t hesitate, he hugs you back and kisses the top of your head, “There should be new clothes in your room, love.” he says softly, “I had someone go get you something new to wear.” You look up at him with curiosity in your face, about to ask questions and he gently swats your backside and turns you giggling with surprise towards the door, “Scurry on, little mouse,” he says, “Don’t say anything because I won’t be able to not tell you.”

You pad back to your rooms for a bath and to get dressed, feeling like you were floating. You were blushing and, biting your lip to keep from giggling. The Girls take one look at your pink cheeks, bright eyes, and kiss-swollen lips, and the teasing begins. They tease you and cajole you gently until you spill all the details. It had been a long time since you could speak freely about anything and your “ladies” swooning over your betrothed, and his sweetness made you giggle. When you open the bundle of clothing on your bed, you gasp softly. It was clothing from your home kingdom, the colors of the forests all dark green and brown leather. Sheer gauzy fabric and golden jewelry. Fresh from your bath and wrapped in a towel you try and help your ladies to help you dress, but the parts and pieces have them flummoxed. You largely dress yourself. The shirt is loose, but there is a band of leather at the bottom of it just under your breasts leaving your tummy exposed. The skirt sits low on your hips another leather band studded with gold holding it in place, the sides are slit most of the way up the side, showing your legs as you walk.

Gold bands go around your upper arms and a diadem of leather, gold, and an emerald at your forehead mark you as a princess. Your hair is unbound in any way, dark red waved flowing to your hips. Carol whistles, “Is this how you would dress at home?” You blush as you look at yourself in the mirror, “As an unmarried woman, yes,” you say. “Thor is going to lose his mind,” Wanda said. You bite your lip uncertain, and Natasha pats your arm, “He’s going to think you’re beautiful,” she soothed, “But I don’t think he’s going to be expecting to see this much of your skin.” She pokes your bare tummy and laughs, “But he’ll be pleased to see it, I think. He’s been dying to see you in something other than jeans and t-shirts.” You give your hair a final fuss and sigh turning towards the door at a knock, “Yes?” you say. Rocket stands in the doorway and blinks at you in surprise, “They’re ready for you downstairs,” Rocket said. “Thank you, Rocket,” you say smiling, heading towards the stairs. “Rocket,” Carol asked fondly. “Do you have a crush on Y/N?” Rocket shook his head, “When I look at her,” he said, “I feel like… Like I’m somewhere calm. She smells like, home. I guess.” Carol nodded, surprised at the candid answer and doesn’t press further. The ladies and Rocket follow you into the courtyard, Natasha appreciated what that skirt did for the fullness of your bottom and the way in exaggerated the sway of your hips. Under different circumstances and if she weren’t with Bruce she might be comparing her appreciation of your backside with Thor own in a bar.

You pause at the top of the steps down, pausing so Beesha could settle on your shoulder and hide in your hair. Thor sees you over Valkyrie’s head and his jaw drops. You look like an embodiment of sex. Of Desire. His mouth is dry and he swallows hard making Valkyrie turn to see you. She is similarly struck and all she can manage is, “Damn.” Rocket laughed, “Thunder dork is shook.” he said and Natasha laughed, “It looks that way.” You feel self-conscious of all the eyes on you but before you can say anything, a voice from your past pierces the air and you turn. “Y/N!” the girl, blonde and bouncing screams, running up the steps to you. You meet her halfway and catch her, clutching her to you, tears flowing. “Sera,” you say softly, “Oh my gods, Sera I thought you were dead. I was so afraid everyone was dead.” Your mother’s advisors turn to meet Thor, smiling “Your majesty,” A white-haired man says. He greets them, his heart aching as he watched you oblivious to anything else. A woman with Green hair beams, “Sera was her childhood best friend,” she explained, “We thought it might soothe some of the pre-wedding jitters.” Thor beamed, “As soon as they can be pried away from each other, I’m sure they’ll cause much trouble.”


	5. Chapter 5

There is more crying and hugging when Sera releases you and you come face to face with Your mother’s advisors, what was left of them anyway. The Avengers looked on with various emotions on their faces. Most of them had never seen you be so openly expressive about anything, not even your likes and dislikes for food. Even if you hated something you took a polite nibble and declared it delicious out of politeness. It was such a common occurrence that Bucky had declared Canadians must be Fae and not human.

Thor’s chest hurt. You had spent 12 years fighting for survival believing everyone you loved had died and no one was going to come for you. That there was no home to return to. You had dealt with that loss as a small child and dealt with it alone. He felt pride that you had survived it all and shame. He was ashamed of himself for not making this meeting happen sooner. He had spent almost all month learning to read micro expressions in your face and watching this transformation was like watching the sun come out after a hard winter. You moved differently, instead of stoic precision in every move it was fluid grace as if a burden had lifted from your shoulders. As if your feet had finally stopped being pulled down in the mud. And when you met his eyes, beaming and laughing through the tears running down your face he felt like he really saw you. Saw the Queen you would be. He felt tears in his own eyes watching the Fae reunion in the courtyard and made a silent promise to himself that he would never let you feel that isolated again. 

That evening at dinner, a gathering of the Avengers who were trickling in for the wedding, there was music. So much music and laughter. The stories and songs flowed as freely as the wine. For the first time in New Asgard, there was a joy. It was palpable, the magic that flowed hummed through the halls and streets. Taverns were packed to the rafters with the music of their own. Trees and flowers burst into bloom. The castle courtyard was the center of it all. Thor watched you. You had kissed him soundly once, a kiss that knocked him breathless for a moment and conveyed thanks that 1,000 words simply could not. He happily would have kissed you 5 or 6 dozen more times but you had not been still since. Sera had grabbed your hand and you’d been dancing ever since. Thor was honestly drowning in lust watching. The way your hips rolled in time to the music was hypnotic and in the dress of your home court, you looked like someone he was not creative enough to fantasize about. Natasha caught his eye once and winked. They had similar tastes in women and in a proper bar unattached had often compared notes. When you didn’t dance, you sang, you played, you laughed. It was not until Sera sat that you did, a Guitar on the other Faery Girl’s lap. A hush fell over the crowd and The white-haired advisor, Kamesh laughed. “Oh no, it must be time for the Raggle Taggle Gypsy.” There was fondness in that laugh. Thor looked at her in Askance and Kamesh beamed, “It was the first song they learned in music lessons,” she explained. “The Queen’s consort, Alric, taught it to them,” she said, “They’ve been apart for too long to learn a new one together for tonight.”

There were three old Gypsies came to our hall door/  
They cam brave and Boldly-oh/  
There was one sang high and the other sang low and the Lady sang a raggle taggle gypsy-oh/

It was upstairs and downstairs the lady went/  
Put on her suit of leather oh/  
There was a cry all around the door/  
She’s away with the raggle taggle gypsy -oh/

Thor listened with half an ear but the words didn’t matter to him overmuch. As he looked into your face, brimming with hope and joy he wanted to remember every last detail. He didn’t want to forget this happiness, the feeling of Faery come to New Asgard. This was an advantageous match in more ways than one. His people were well suited to yours as he was well suited to you. The sear of your kiss on his lips and the memory of the way your bottom had filled his hand so prettily had him dying to touch you again. He wanted you so badly that even his insecurities about his body were silent for the moment. He knew that without more work than he had time for he’d never be as he was but when he thought of the way you kissed his stomach with no hesitation and the feel of you hugging him tightly, your cheek against the swell, he didn’t mind very much. He sat up as your song ended and you took a laughing, blushing bow and cheered loudly. You caught his eye and smiled so he held his hand out, beckoning to you. His heart thrilled when you came towards him. 

“My lord,” you say, dropping into a curtsey that inadvertently gave him a lovely glimpse of the soft skin of your chest. Thor tore his eyes away and raised you, cupping your chin in his hand tenderly. “I never want to forget how beautiful you are tonight,” he murmured, his deep baritone pitched for your hearing alone. “I am more in love with you than I ever thought I could be,” he said, kissing your forehead. You don’t know what to say, the princess of story and song, is at a loss for either. Thor only laughs and settles you on the arm of his chair, tucking your pretty bare feet into his lap and lightly caressing your ankles as you sip from a goblet of wine and take a moment to relax, watching the Delegation from your court with pride in your face. No one assembled pays the two of you any mind, really. The display of affection is welcome, proof that you haven’t been given to the monster they feared Madoc would try to find. 

You sigh at the gentle touch and let him do it. It feels nice. You’ve never been allowed to dance so much in an evening and you aren’t used to it. Thor chuckles and keeps caressing lightly. He can feel the heat coming off of you from the exertion and the excitement. You look so happy and more than a little bit tipsy. He knows that the fire in you is going to burn bright if he stokes it the right way, he can feel it. Your desire to live and to be free couldn’t be crushed. Madoc had only managed to stifle you but he could not defeat you. You look down at Thor and brush a lock of hair off his face with gentle hands making him look up at you. “May I sleep with you again tonight?” you ask softly. Thor smiles, heart fluttering; “You don’t even have to ask, sweetheart,” he said capturing your lips in a soft kiss. You blush and Thor chuckles, “I’ve never wanted to sleep next to someone so badly in all my life,” he said, “I never realized how big my bed was until I had you cuddled in my arms. It is big and lonely and I don’t fancy being alone in it anymore.” You smile, “Have you been so lonely as King, Thor?” Thor kissed you again tenderly, “At times it has been the most desolate time in my life. But now, with you here, I do not think I will find it such a burden.” You nod, “I shall endeavor to make it that way,” you murmur, getting a far off look in your eyes, thinking. 

Thor caresses your ankles and kisses your shoulder, “What are you thinking, love?” You smile a little sadly, “I should have never been the Queen in Waiting,” you say, “My mother was still young, I had 6 siblings… and now they are gone and I am alive. My forest is broken and my people have suffered. To what end?” Thor kisses your shoulder again, knowing that you aren’t done speaking and knowing no words he says are going to be sufficient. “What if after all this, I am not the Queen they need me to be? Not for your people or for mine.” Thor smiles a little, “My love, my sweet girl, I can promise you that you are already the Queen they need you to be. They don’t need you to be anyone other than who you are.” He gestures at the assembly, still dancing and still alive with warmth and light, “You did this, you brought this into being with a harp and sheer force of will when you decided to live. You are who they need because you know what it’s like to be without hope. You breathed life into my kingdom and you’ll do the same with yours.”

You lean into him and rest your head on his shoulder, “Thank you,” you say softly, your breath against his neck making him shiver in pleasure. “I’ve been alive a long time, sweetheart. I know a Queen when I see one,” he chuckled, allowing himself the intimacy of caressing your bare side as he wrapped his arms around you. When you sighed in enjoyment he thought his prick would burst when it throbbed but he didn’t push for more. He knew that if he just let you adjust and let you enjoy the little intimacies he’d have a much easier time helping you enjoy the big ones. He desperately wanted to act on the arousal he could feel coming from you, making his own powers bubble to the surface but he kept them in check. “Bedtime, I think.” he said kissing your hair, “You have a long day of wedding arrangements tomorrow.” You rub your eyes and nod, “I hope you like my dress,” you say, already nodding off on his shoulder. “Sweetheart,” he said, mischief in his voice as he scooped you up in his arms to tuck you in, “You could meet me at the alter stark naked and I wouldn’t mind in the least.” You smile against his shoulder but say nothing, eyes already closing.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning Thor wakes up alone. Your side of the bed is rumpled but cold. He feels a pang he’s never felt waking up alone before. He’d been hoping for sleepy good morning kisses. He groans as he hauls himself up. He’d slept last night but not enough. He’d been trying not to fantasize about your wedding night to get to sleep, but the more he decided not to the more he found himself thinking of all the delights he wanted to show you.

His prick was so hard he was getting uncomfortable. You’d never even said anything or done anything overtly sexual but just thinking of being between your thighs and remembering the roll of your hips and the feel of your skin made him ache. As he started a cold shower and stripped himself down, he sighed, “This is going to be the longest 3 days of my life.” he groused to himself. In a way, though, he was thankful. He hadn’t expected to be so attracted to you. Let alone supposed to love you this much. He stepped into the water and gasped breathlessly as the cold water hit his skin and then groaned in relief. “I can do this,” he told himself, gently thudding his head against the wall. He could have taken care of himself; it was true, but he wanted you to have the best of him when he made you his wife. He wanted you to feel every ounce of his need for you until you were too overwhelmed by his devotion to being frightened. He’d learned a thing or two about bedding shy women in his time, and you weren’t just shy. You’d suffered cruelly for years before coming to him. He wanted to make sure that he drove out every doubt you had that he might not want you because of your past. He tried not to indulge himself in considering how he would do that trying to focus instead on how to help you with the last of the wedding plans. Still, images of you dancing popped into his head unbidden, and he swore softly.

Loki leaned against the counter and coughed to announce his presence, making Thor swear slightly louder, “What?” Loki chuckled, “Problem, brother?” he knew exactly what the problem was. Thor was a creature of vices. Food, sex, alcohol. Those were his indulgences, and he’d been able to indulge in two of them the night before. Thor only groaned in response, “Did you come in here for a purpose or just to irritate me?” Thor asked. Loki snorted, “Your future Queen asked me to "Please remind Thor he promised to help put up decorations today.” it was an exact imitation of your musical voice and surprisingly without much mockery. Thor smiled a little, “Loki, that was almost kind. You’re slipping.” Loki shrugged, “As far as princesses go, she’s not the most insipid I’ve met.” Thor laughed, “And that was almost a compliment, you do like her.” Loki shrugged, “She’s too polite to everyone. She’s useless in battle. And her eyes are slightly creepy but… She did look marvelous in the outfit she wore last night.” Loki only laughed as Thor groaned in discomfort and let himself out of the room.

By the time Thor made his way downstairs, you were in the courtyard deep in conversation with Loki and your mother’s (now your) advisors trying to make a seating chart that wouldn’t start a war or cause an international incident. Thor strolled over to the table, watching and set his hammer on a pile of papers, folding his arms across his chest to listen. You were so focused you didn’t even see him. You indeed weren’t really paying attention when you turned to pick up a sheaf of papers and impatiently held Thor’s hammer out to him to take, the stack of papers in your other hand. The god blinked in surprise but took it, a soft sappy smile on his face. Silence fell in the courtyard as people watched the exchange. It was the silence you noticed, and it made you look up, “What did I say?” you asked cheeks coloring at all the eyes on you. “Nothing, sweetheart,” Thor said, kissing your head, chuckling to himself. Loki cleared his throat, “Your Highness if you could tell us where to seat the Prince of the Mountains of Dreams,” he started. You snap to attention and throw yourself back into it. Steve and Bruce falling into step with him, “She just picked up the hammer,” Bruce said flabbergasted, “And didn’t even realize it.” Thor nodded, “I saw,” he chuckled. Steve punched Thor’s arm, “Are you going to tell her?” Thor shook his head, “No,” he said simply, “She has enough on her mind right now, and we have a long time to have that conversation.” Bruce gave Thor a light shove, “You better treat Y/N well or Nat and Carol will literally kill you. They want to take her for a Girl’s night in the City sometime.” Thor nodded, thinking. He knew you’d be okay with two of the finest warriors he had ever fought beside but… he was still reluctant to let you go too far. Not with Madoc out there and scheming schemes. “Thor’s not going to let her go anywhere until after the Wedding night,” Steve said laughing, making Thor simultaneously blush and groan. “Why does everyone insist on bringing that up this morning?” he groused.

Steve laughed, “This is the longest you’ve ever gone without pulling someone into your bed,” he said, “It’s honestly a miracle you haven’t exploded.” Thor grumbled, and Bruce laughed, “You’ve been staring at her like she’s water in the desert for days, man. I thought you might literally catch fire when she was dancing last night. I know Nat was entertained.” Thor sighed, “She is a beautiful woman. And I really do look forward to being with her.” He thought of the distraction on your face as you thrust the hammer at him with a look of mild irritation as if it were an inconvenient paperweight instead of a symbol of his power and smiled fondly. You were the queen he needed. One he would happily have many healthy babies with. 

“Now that,” Tony said strolling forward with Pepper and Morgan in tow “is the look of a man who hasn’t realized how close the wedding is.” Thor lifted Morgan up as she ran forward and kissed her cheek and then kissed Pepper’s, “Welcome,” he said laughing, “Indeed I do know that it is but three days away, my Princess has kept me updated of that fact several times a day. Pepper smiled, “Poor thing, she must be so nervous.” Thor smiled, “Nervous, indeed. Though she is easier now that her advisors are here to help her make sense of the last few pieces.” Pepper took Morgan with a smile, “I can see from the look on Tony’s face that this conversation is not about to be fit for little ears… I’ll just go introduce myself and see if the bride needs any help.” Tony watched her go and smiled a little. Having a family had tempered some of his more annoying habits, but Thor was still anxious for you to meet him. “So,” Tony said, “Have I won the bet, yet?” he asked. Steve shook his head, “Thor has been almost a perfect gentleman, There has yet to be an unexplained thunderstorm.” Thor pinched the bridge of his nose, “Valkyrie started it, didn’t she?” he asked. 

The others’ laughter told him he was correct. He gave them a moment to laugh at his expense but held up a hand, “Just don’t let the word of this get back to her?” he asked quietly, dropping his voice. “I do not know the extent of her suffering during her captivity, but… I have my suspicions, and I will not have her innocence or lack thereof be made the subject of a joke.” He met Tony’s eyes steadily, and the other man nodded, it was clear this was something he had not considered. “You can mock me in private all you want,” he said, “But don’t subject her to that. She doesn’t deserve it.” Steve nodded, “Y/N is a real doll, Tony,” he said, “Morgan is going to adore her. So will Pepper.”

Steve was correct. They were both enamored of you for different reasons. Morgan was so excited to meet an actual Fairy Princess that she could barely stammer “Hello” before flinging her arms around your neck for a hug. You took her gently and situated her on your hip, holding her in one arm and working out details with the other. Pepper loved your openness and the way you answered Morgan’s endless questions while still getting your work done. She admired your grace and the subtle ways you manipulated the people around you to include them. Pepper hadn’t met that many Queens but, you were one. When the Children of New Asgard dragged you to your seat under a Shady tree to tell them a story, your brown spider silk skirt flowing around your ankles as you walked, hair unbound and midriff bare, you went. You settled Morgan with the Other children at your feet and launched into your tale. Dragons and Knights in gleaming armor. A dreamy feel came over the courtyard, everything slowed down and quieted. Your lilting musical voice ringing out as people stopped to listen. It was magic in the air, and it only became more magical when Beesha climbed into your lap for a nap and Declan ambled over to lie in the shade and munch on grass. Thor stopped on his ladder and looked over to you, pausing to wipe sweat out of his eyes. Gods, you were gorgeous. He wanted to kiss that bare tummy and look for ticklish places he could exploit when you misbehaved. With a groan, he climbed down the ladder and made his way over to you, unable to resist the Siren call of your voice. 

He watched the faces of the children, enraptured by your story, and smiled. There were maybe 10 or 12 children at your feet. He wondered what you’d say to have that many children of your own. Not that he really wanted that many. Not all at once, close together. But it made a warmth spread through his belly. Thinking about a family with you. When you drew your tale to a close for the day, the children grouse but they know that you’ll tell the story in your own time and there’s no use protesting. You stand up easily off your little stool, and Thor pulls you against him, hugging you. Your skin is cool to the touch, but you seem unbothered by the chill. “Love, aren’t you cold?” he caresses your bare side, and you shrug, “No, not really.” Thor tilts your chin up gently to kiss you, and you feel a tingle in your lips, “You feel cold,” he murmured, “Perhaps I ought to take you inside and get you a warm drink.” He kisses you again, and you lean into him impulsively asking him for more. The king feels his knees turn to jello, and he groans softly against you lips before pulling away lightly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said, kissing your forehead, “Watching you with the children put me in a mood.” You blush and hug him, resting your cheek on the top of his belly, “What sort of mood?” you ask, the innocence in your face making you look younger than usual. 

He leans down to murmur in your ear, “It got me thinking about our wedding night. About how excited I am to be able to have you as my queen. About how beautiful you’re going to look full of our baby.” He holds you loosely, not wanting you to feel trapped but wanting to keep you. He drops a soft kiss on your shoulder, and you shiver. You might be blushing and stammering for a response, but he can feel the need he’s stoked up in you. You chance to look up at him, and he beams, kissing your nose. “It seems like I might not need to warm you up any further after all.” he teased, his baritone voice pitched for your hearing. You giggle and smack his arm, making him laugh a deep belly laugh.

The chill of the evening doesn’t stop another night of dancing as more few and more Avengers pour into New Asgard. Like the night before, you are rarely still, and Thor enjoys the show. There’s nothing explicitly sexy about it, he just can hardly move without his prick protesting for want of you. He’s dying to bury himself in you and feel you come apart all around him. T’Challa and his Wakandan party are welcomed with open arms the next day, and Thor hardly sees you. The girls, apparently fearing for your innocence, have kept you away from him. Partly, Thor suspects because with all the people trickling in Madoc could have spies anywhere and they need him to believe Thor doesn’t really love you for his plan to work and it’s a little hard to do that when he’s making cow eyes at you and drowning in lust every time you walk by.

The Wedding day downs early and Thor has hardly slept. He spent the night in a mix of anxiety and excitement. He wants you to love him. He wants his body to please you but some small part of him, however, excited he is to have such a queen is terrified that you’ll be repulsed when you see him unclothed. As he dons his ceremonial Armor and makes his way to the Throne room, his knees Tremble. People talk to him, he greets guests, but it’s all a blur. He can hardly breathe. And then there is music. Music plays, and he sees you. Your gown is not white but a pale spring green. The color of new beginnings. A new life. Your tummy is covered and so are your arms, but the fabric clings to your breasts and your bottom so tightly that you may as well be laid naked before him. He drinks you in like a parched man in a desert. Your hair is bound up, and a leather belt is around your waist. You actually do have shoes on, albeit soft brown leather flats. Thor can’t breathe for a moment, and then, you’re smiling. Smiling at him. Your golden eyes are bright and happy. His heart swells. He takes your hands, and together, you face the officiant to have your hands bound. This is new to you. Fey wedding ceremonies are private affairs, two people who pledge only to each other and not a room full of people but, it’s not Faery. Your hands bound, Thor pulls you close to him, his hungry mouth catching yours in a kiss that leaves you breathless and blushing. The cheers are deafening and Thor’s laugh booms through the hall like thunder as he clutches you to him. The Officiant declares you the King and Queen of New Asgard, and the cheers only get louder. You feel your heart racing, but you can’t stop smiling up at the King who decided to make you his wife.


	7. Chapter 7

The feast after the wedding is magnificent. So much light and color and sound, Madoc sends emissaries but does not appear himself, something the both pleases and alarms you. Thor is enjoying himself too much to worry for the moment, sipping Faery wine and stealing kisses from you. You are happy but watchful. Fey gentry are here and they are watching. Assessing. Hedging their bets for when it comes to blows between the King of Fears and the Princess of the Forests of Sighs. 

Many people tell you that you look like your mother. That your father would have liked your husband. That your sister Haldora had liked that shade of green. The list goes on and each murmured word is an arrow to your heart. They should be here and they aren’t. You hardly remember them but you miss them. You smile, dancing and laughing, shooting flirting glances at your new husband. You lose your sorrow in the sounds of home.

Loki comes and stands next to Thor, his own drink in hand. The two of them stand watching you move, you’re trying to teach Natasha and Carol how to move their hips in the requisite way to do the dance that’s coming up. There’s laughing and both of them are struggling and also teasing you about all the uses you could have for moving your hips that way making you blush. “How does it feel to be married?” Loki asked, snorting as he looked at the besotted look on his Brother’s face. “I’ll let you know in the morning,” Thor answered, smiling a little. “I still can’t believe that she’s mine, and I have you to thank for it.” Loki laughed, “I knew from the second I saw her, all lost and terrified that you’d be charging in to save her. I just didn’t know you’d actually like her.” Thor simply inclined his head in thanks and pulled Loki into a bone-crushing hug. Loki hesitated for a moment but hugged him back, “Just do me a favor and sire an heir quickly. I don’t particularly want to be king.” he said, straightening his clothes as they pulled apart. Thor chuckled and sipped his wine. You catch Thor’s eye and he holds out his hand to you, beckoning you to him. You go, rosy-cheeked and laughing. as he pulls you in to steal a kiss that makes your lips tingle. You pull away and smile at Loki, the trickster bows, “Your majesty,” he says, something like fondness in his voice, “I’m happy to see that Asgard has such a queen. Our mother would have liked you.” You kiss his cheek in thanks and he blushes, “Take care of Thor,” he said in your ear, “If he is the sky, he needs you to be the ground. Steady where he is changeable. If anyone can, you can, y/n” Loki bows again and leaves the two of you alone. Thor pulls you into his arms and kisses you, “I think, my beautiful queen,” he said smiling down at you, “that you have had a long day and it is time for bed.” 

You blush and your heart races. Your mouth goes dry and you can’t seem to make words come out. Thor can read the moment of panic burgeoning on fear on your face and tilts your chin up. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, “you have nothing to fear.” He soothed you gently, rubbing your neck and kissing your forehead softly, “I would rather die than hurt you. We’ll go slowly.” When you nod finally, uncertainty still all over your face Thor chuckles, “I have much to teach you, my love. And I intend for you to enjoy every lesson.” You shiver in trepidation and he lifts you into his arms gently, “I know some things,” you say, cheeks paling. Thor cuddles you, “Not these things, my love. Those things have no place in our bed,” he whispers, kissing the spot on your neck that makes you sigh so prettily. 

The Cry that goes up when the Asgardians notice Thor carrying you off to bed is deafening and the bawdy songs that start send parents with Children rounding up their kids to tuck them in. As for you, you turn bright red and hide your face in Thor’s shoulder. He cuddles you and opens the door, setting you carefully on the bed before shutting the door. You can’t seem to look at him. Your heart is pounding and you feel like you might be sick. Thor crosses the room to you and kneels in front of you, “I promise you, Y/N,” he said cradling your face in his huge hands, “Nothing will ever happen to you in our bed that you won’t enjoy. Your body is your own but I would be honored if you would share it with me. If you would let my shabby self be the one to introduce you to pleasure.” You swallow hard and nod hesitantly. “Do you trust me?” he asked softly, reminding you of your first meeting. “I do not have much choice, your majesty.” you echo, meeting his eyes, smiling a little. 

Thor stands and holds his hands out to you, “Help me get undressed?” he asked swallowing his fear that you’d find him wanting. You’re blushing and clumsy as you work all the buckles and undress your husband. Thor stays still, letting you have control of the speed of it all, easing you into the feeling of this intimacy. When he stands before you, naked all his body under your view, he wants to cover himself. He wants to hide. Until you wrap your arms around him slowly, pressing a shy kiss into his belly before looking up at him. He’s the first man you’ve seen nude and he’s lovely to you. The statues you’ve seen with muscles and stern faces always looked forbidding. You could never cuddle one of those men the way you can cuddle Thor. Thor let’s out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and kisses your hair. He settles you on the edge of the bed and kisses your hands, “I’m going to run us a bath, sweetheart,” he says, “Nothing will hurt as much if we help you relax.” You nod, watching him go with interest and listen to him rattling around, humming to himself. Some of your reservations fade as you listen to him murmuring to himself about what kind of bath oil would suit you best. When he returns he holds out his hands to you, “May I help you with your dress, my queen?” he asked softly. He wanted you to be able to tell him no. He didn’t want you to feel that his devotion was contingent on your submission. Not tonight. Not when he wanted so badly for you to feel safe with him. You stand, knees trembling and go to him, turning so he can unbutton the back of your wedding gown. His hands are light and his touch is gentle as he unbuttons buttons. He kisses your shoulders and neck as he eases the dress down, gasping softly at your bare skin. Your dress was so fitted that there were no undergarments you could wear under it. Your body is bare under his hands and Thor sighs in want and wraps his arms around your waist lovingly, kissing your neck. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he murmured. He lifted you gently and carried you to the bathroom.

Setting you on the counter for a moment he turns the water off and tests the temperature of the water with his hand, nodding to himself. He turned back to you and smiled tenderly. He stood in front of you and kissed you with a little more insistence, making it impossible for you to think. He let his hands wander to your breasts and held them in his hands carefully. He stroked your nipples with his thumbs slowly and chuckled when you sigh and close your eyes. “That’s it, precious girl,” he coaxed, “Let’s get you in the bath.” He helped you off the counter and handed you up the steps to the bath, allowing himself the pleasure of admiring your backside as you walk up the steps.

The bath is easily large enough to fit 4 or 5 people and there’s a step along the inside that you take a seat on, grateful that the water will hide your trembling. Thor joins you after a moment, holding his arms out. When you go to him, drawn in spite of your unease, he puts you on his lap. He doesn’t speak except to murmur endearments to you and applies himself to using fancy soaps on your skin, smoothing a cloth over your skin. All of your skin. You can feel his arousal pressing into your hip but he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry for you to act on it. That helps. You relax against his chest, pressing shy kisses into his chest and shoulder from time to time.

Thor can feel you relax under his hands and he smiles to himself. Every shy kiss you press into his chest makes his heart flutter. You don’t seem phased by his body. Every shy caress is shy because you’re inexperienced. As you relax and surrender yourself to his attention, his caresses get more about arousing you and less about relaxing you. Thor seeks you the places on your body that make you sigh when he touches them, slowly stoking the fire he knows is waiting inside you. He leans down and feathers soft kisses across your breasts. His beard making you giggle as it tickles your skin. Thor chuckles and re-situates you slightly, your back against his chest and your thighs apart. 

Once he has you held where it’s most comfortable for the both of you, he slowly trails his fingers down your belly, up and back in achingly slow movements. When you moan softly he nips your shoulder gently, “That’s a lovely sound,” he encouraged, “Let me hear you, sweetheart.” He can feel the desire in you, the growing need, it’s making him throb and he forces himself to stay focused on you. His hand trails down your belly steadily lower, working towards your sex. He puts one of your arms up to let you tangle your fingers in his hair and then strokes your thigh. He can hear you starting to pant and a new tension is building in your body. A tension that tells him you’re starting to burn for him. “Tell me what you want?” he demands quietly. You fumble for words and he waits, not stopping his caresses. “I don’t know,” you say softly, anxiety edging in, afraid of disappointing him. Thor is unconcerned, it was just part of the process of teaching you how to make love, teaching you what you enjoyed. “I’m going to touch you,” he said, voice light but firm. “I’m going to make you orgasm for me and I want you to lean back against me and relax. If you tell me to stop, it all stops.” He kisses your neck and strokes your mound, “You’re sharing your body with me. I don’t control any of this. You do. Do you understand?” You nod and he nips your shoulder, making you yelp in surprise, “Let me hear you,” he said, “Tell me you understand.” You bite your lip and swallow hard, “I understand,” you manage after a moment. 

Your husband chuckles and slides a finger against your folds slowly, avoiding your clit for the moment. Your hips jerk and he wraps an arm around your stomach to steady you and hold you against his soft chest. Thunder rumbles in the distance. He circled your clit, not actually touching it but enjoying how slick and swollen you are for him. Your hand tightens in his hair and you sigh, “Thor?” you ask, anxious. Your sex is throbbing and you feel flushed and feverish. “This is desire,” he rumbled in your ear. “This is what arousal feels like, sweetheart,” he does touch your clit then and you gasp. “This,” he said, his finger softly stroking the little nub, “Is how I’m going to teach you what bliss feels like.” You can feel the tension in your whole body and your back arches of its own accord as he continues to touch you. It feels like you’re a bow string that he is drawing back. It just keeps tightening down on you but you don’t want it to stop. You don’t want him to stop touching you this way. He keeps an arm around you, focused solely on your pleasure. He knows that you don’t know how to tell when you’re getting close so he doesn’t ask. He just lets the desire burn through you. He groans against your shoulder as the twitch of your hips rubs your perfect ass against his throbbing prick. He can hear the thunderstorm outside and the subsequent celebrations but it doesn’t really matter. All there is is you and your soft moans. When your orgasm does hit you, you cry out sharply and Thor tightens his arm around your waist, gentling you as you come down, panting and trembling. 

He chuckles and holds you through the aftershocks, cuddling you softly. “Sweetheart, that was lovely.” He kissed you softly and rearranged you on his lap. Your cheeks are flushed and your skin is warmer to the touch. “Are you alright,” he asked softly? You nod and chance looking up at him shyly. He kisses your nose, “You come apart so beautifully for me,” there was a tone of satisfaction in his voice. It made your chest warm. He holds you for a few minutes, letting you recover and get your bearings. You smile up at him shyly and Thor squeezes your hip gently, chuckling. “Are you ready for bed?” he asked teasing you lightly. You bit your lip and look away, “I’m not-” you start and Thor carefully kisses you quiet. He knows what you’re about to say and he can’t, he refuses to let you think that it matters to him by letting you finish that sentence. “Y/N,” he said gently, “I know that. I can sense that. And I don’t care. This is the only moment I care about. This is not like that. This is making love to my wife.” You look up at him and nod. You can’t seem to refuse Thor. Everything about him is so comfortable and so warm that it makes it hard to stay away, even when your stomach is twisting. 

Thor helps you from the bath and wraps a towel around you before letting you help him dry himself. You kiss his belly, sensing that insecurity in him. It bothers you. His body is lovely. He’s soft and strong. “I’m sorry,” he says blushing, “I wasn’t always like this.” You nuzzle his soft middle gently and continue drying his skin. “You’re perfect,” you say blushing. You tell him softly about the statues you had seen and finding them unappealing. You tell him hesitantly that watching Beesha sleep on his belly made you happy. That when he held you, you just felt comfortable instead of scared. Thor listens, only his stillness shows that he’s listening. Something in his chest lightens as he hears your shy reassurances. “I used to have abs,” he groused at himself. “You still do,” you say, giggling. You pat his belly lovingly and wrap your arms around him, “They’re just shy.” Thor laughs his booming belly laugh and scoops you up easily to put you on the bed.

Thor settles you tenderly on the bed, laying you down and putting a pillow under your hips to help ease your discomfort. He kisses every inch of your body he can reach. Hungry kisses, soft wet kisses, his beard tickling your breasts and belly making you giggle. Thor is not shy about his enjoyment of your body. He growls and squeezes, moaning into your flesh. He stokes your fire again, letting his own burn. He wants you so much he feels like he might burst. He parts your thighs carefully, “I’m going to get you ready for me,” he said softly, “I don’t want this to hurt you. I’m very hard and I don’t want it to stretch you too much before you’re ready.” You swallow hard and he kisses down your thigh making you gasp. “The minute you tell me to stop, it stops, “he reminded you. You start to nod and he bites your thigh lightly, “Tell me,” he demanded. “I understand,” you say softly. Carefully Thor slides a finger into your entrance and lets his head fall forward to lick your clit, sucking it lightly. You gasp and your hand finds his hair again as your other hand finds the bars on the headboard. Thor sets about making you come again while he distracts you from the discomfort of his stretching you. 

He keeps you coming, giving you no quarter, relishing every sharp cry and lapping your juices greedily. He doesn’t think about anything other than this. Your pleasure. Every orgasm making him more desperate to be inside you, to feel you come apart on his prick. Time passes and the thunderstorm outside rages. Finally, Thor gentles you, kissing up your body to kiss your lips and you moan against him. “I want-” you start, blushing and going quiet. “What do you want, my queen?” he coaxes, looking at you with heat in his eyes that made you shiver. “I want you,” you say biting your lip. Your husband needs no more encouragement. He settles his prick at your entrance and starts pushing in to you slowly, giving you time to adjust to him. You cry out at the feeling of pressure stretching and Thor kisses you hungrily. “Tell me when you’re ready for me to move,” he soothed, propping himself up on his elbows. Reflecting that if it were another woman he’d be humiliated to feel his belly against yours. But with you, the closeness is nice. He can touch more of you. 

You take a deep breath and nod after a minute and Thor groans as he shifted his hips getting a rhythm. “You are going to look beautiful with my baby inside you,” he growls against your ear. “We’re going to put those perfect hips to good use, aren’t we sweetheart,” he said, coaxing you to orgasm again with him. He couldn’t stop himself. He wanted babies with you. As many as you wanted. He could see you all rounded out and waddling and it made his mouth water. He was losing control of his ability to squash those powers down and he knew it as you wrapped your legs around him when he picked up his pace. This was going from lovemaking to fucking. Quickly. But in the back of his mind, he knew that you were in bliss. There was no fear in you. Thor was driving it out of you, pushing away those shadows for you, re sanctifying your body in a way that only Thor would be able to do. When you cried out your orgasm Thor was right behind you with a roar as he spilled his seed inside you. He held himself on his elbows, kissing you through the aftershocks and letting himself go soft inside you. He withdraws from you carefully and pulled you to him, letting you rest your head on his belly. The thunderstorm outside gentles and lulls you to sleep as Thor caresses your hair. Your husband could go again. 5, 6,7,8 times. But, he knows that he has time. He knows that he might have pushed you too hard but as your breathing deepens into sleep he can’t be terribly sorry. He could feel your passion for him. Your love. And tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow you leave for Faery.


	8. Chapter 8

Thor slept with you cuddling his belly, and he slept soundly. It felt so right having your warm little body in his arms. He knew you were safe. He knew he could protect you. He slept soundly, but when the house around them hummed to life for the morning, he opened his eyes. There was light streaming through the window, and a sheet just barely made you decent. It was a lovely way to start the day, he reflected. He wiggled out of your arms carefully, dressing quietly to let you have your sleep. He knew the journey today was going to be emotionally trying for you. Once he was dressed, he made his way to the hall to make you a breakfast plate. He thought that he might spare you the bawdy jokes at your expense. The memory of you underneath him made him warm despite the cold outside. He dealt with the ribbing with good humor. Including the implication that last night’s thunderstorm had been suspiciously short. 

There was still an air of celebration in the air. There was a coronation coming, and ALL of new Asgard was going to make their way to Faery. For Thor, Loki, and Valkyrie, it had been a logistical nightmare, but, they all agreed that your new people needed to be introduced to your native people to prevent any grumbling. Thor fixes you a plate, and Loki leans against the table, his back to the room, “So, how is it being leg-shackled to one woman for the rest of your life?” he asked. Thor started making your hot chocolate and smiled, “So far? Pretty wonderful.” Loki snorted, “Is her majesty still a bed then?” he asked. Thor nodded, “I thought it might be best to let her get some rest. Today is going to be hard. It broke her heart yesterday any time anyone so much as mentioned that she looks like her mother.” Loki winced, “Yeah, I see your point.” Thor picked up the plate and the mug, nodding to Loki and padding carefully back to your shared rooms. He paused in the doorway, you were sitting in front of the vanity he had put in place for you, brushing out your long hair, a towel wrapped around your body. You were fresh from the shower and oblivious to him for a moment, thinking. Your face serious and your eyes darkened to an almost amber hue. He set down the plate and gently took the brush from your hand, folding your hands around the mug instead. 

“How do you feel, sweetheart?” he asked fondly, starting to brush your hair out for you. “I’m fine,” you say, smiling up at him and taking a cautious sip of your drink. You contain a wince, barely. Thor chuckles, “You are not fine, and you don’t need to drink that if it’s too sweet.” He kissed your head. Thor knew your biology was different from other Midgardian creatures, but every day he learned something new about what you could or could not hear, eat, taste, or feel. It was only recently he figured out that you only politely nibbled on anything pre-packaged. Kamesh had helpfully told Thor that it probably tasted like just chemicals and sugar to you. You set the mug down, and Thor starts braiding your hair. He’d never done this for a woman before it felt right. You close your eyes, and some of the tension leaves your face. Thor wraps a piece of leather around the end of the braid and inspects his handiwork, “It’s not exactly fit for a queen, my love, but I did my best.” Thor watches your golden eyes open slowly and watches the smile spread over your face, “It looks lovely,” you insist, standing from the vanity table slowly. Thor watches you moving carefully and winces, “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he wraps his arms around your waist, “I was too rough with you.” You sigh, leaning back against him comfortable with his closeness, “If it helps, I didn’t feel a thing until this morning.” Thor frowns and kisses your bare shoulder, “I should have been more careful.”

You wiggle reluctantly out of his arms and start to dress. Your outfit for the day brought to you by your advisors, is indeed fit for a returning Princess. A green spider silk top with a leather band under your breast and a high leather collar. Under your breasts and attached to your skirt is a delicate decorative chain mail of gold. You wear a proper tiara, gold set with emerald and gold armbands, bracelets, and rings. Thor watches you dress fondly. There’s a certain feral quality of the dress of your home court. It suits you. There’s a steady, immovable force to you. A sense of quiet watchfulness. Like a wolf or a mountain cat. He admired you, with warm eyes and you fussed with the fabric on your hips and the bracelets on your wrists. 

“You look awe-inspiring.” Thor rumbled walking across the room to you and wrapping his arms around you, “Your people will love you as mine do. Your advisors are confident in the plan, and everything will be fine. You’re going home, love.” You swallow hard and take a deep breath. You had a million questions. And approximately that many doubts. You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or cry or both. Thor rubbed the back of your neck and kissed the top of your head, “I’ll be with you every step of the way,” he murmured, “You are the Queen we all need. The queen I need. I won’t let you walk this path alone.”

Thor offers you his arm as you try not to be outwardly uncomfortable walking and escorts you to the waiting train of Avengers, Asgardians, and Fey who were escorting you home for your coronation. Declan kneels for you and you settle neatly sideways on his back. You had offered Declan a place of his own in the train, beside you as a friend. The Spirit had declined. He thought that since he had born you out of the forests, he should be the one to carry you back into the Forests. Thor sat on horseback next to you and Loki on your other side while Valkyrie was on Thor’s other side. “Princess,” Kamesh said with pride in her face, “Lead the way. They’ve been waiting a long time to welcome you home.”You nod and raise your hand, your stomach turns over in anxiety, and you open the way, a portal of sorts between this world and yours. “Declan, old friend,” you say softly, “Take me home.” You pat the stag’s neck, and he starts forward, picking the path. 

You can hear the city before you can see it. The drums boom like cannons and flutes shrill. Cheers Echo for miles. Thor watches your face and watches you keep your emotions in a stranglehold, tears sliding down your cheeks and you were not even in the city. It breaks his heart. He can see that you want to bolt. He can’t know what you see, the tree branches slapping your face, Declan’s horns covered in blood. The screams and the smoke. But you don’t run. Instead, you quietly urge Declan on, letting tears slide down your cheeks. As you lead them through the city gates, The Asgardians in your party are all silent. This Faery court looks so much like home to them; they all have a reflexive pang of heartache.

The white marble and gold and vines. A wild decadence and the hum of magic. You smile despite how visceral and terrifying the memories are. You smile, you wave, and the tears flow. Thor can see you winning the hearts of your people as if you had never lost it. They adore you. The Child of a beloved Queen. When you reach the palace steps, Declan kneels to allow you to slide down on your own and Thor takes your arm. You’re trembling so hard you can scarcely walk from the strain of all the emotions flowing through your body. Your back is spear straight, and your gait is stiff, but with Thor’s help, you’re steady on your feet.

At the railing, the cheers quiet as you face the crowd. They’re waiting for you to speak and you can’t trust your voice. You do the only thing you can do. You bow, arms wide, forehead on the white marble. A gesture of thanks, of pain, of love. Of a million hope and dreams come to fruition. When you bow, the silence that falls is so complete that the wind even seems to stop rustling leaves. Thor had never seen a moment like this, and if he had only heard it in the bard songs later, he would have thought it an embellishment. Row by row each of the crowd bowed back, kneeling in the streets. When you stand, the group stands and cheers. Kamesh leads you inside, murmuring in your ear. Thor can’t hear what she asks, but you nod. You look like you might be sick. 

Thor is the only one allowed to follow. Loki and the others are invited to make themselves at home and are shown to their rooms. You freeze in the doorway. Thor recognizes the room as a throne room. Before either of them can catch you and keep you on your feet, you crumple like paper, hands over your mouth making a sound Thor has no way to describe. He looks to where you’re looking and the marble is still red. Stained cherry red as if one day and not 12 years have passed. Thor kneels next to you and pulls you against him, holding you tightly. There’s nothing else to do but let you cry where you sit rooted to the spot unable to go forward or back. When you can gather yourself enough to try and stand, Thor, helps you up and keeps you close to his side. Your footsteps make no sound. Kamesh and your advisors lead you to a small anteroom, a burial chamber that held the tombs of your family. They are beautiful and ornate with effigies of each of the fallen. The ones who died to give Declan time to get you away. Your mother and father are hand in hand, a book in her other hand and a guitar in his. Each of your siblings has an instrument in their hands. Behind the tombs, on the wall, there is a portrait of all of you. You are young. Maybe only 3 and sitting on your Father’s lap. Your siblings are scattered about, and your Mother seems to be in the act of telling a story to all of you. You have no more tears left to cry, and Kamesh pats your hand, “Madoc would not let us give them a proper burial so we decided to keep them where he could not desecrate them.”

You nod mutely. You might be out of tears to cry but the silent tremors of pain that wrack your body make Thor more convinced than before that Madoc is going to die for what he’s done. He only just keeps his facial expressions in check and rests his cheek against your hair as he holds you at his side.

Kamesh squeezes your hand. They’ve all had 12 years to grieve. For you, they know, this is the first time facing the full weight of that loss. “Princess,” a tiny fey says, “If you’d like we can take you to your rooms.” You smile your thanks and nod. Your throat is sore, and everything feels raw.

Thor picks you up carefully, and you rest your head on his shoulder, thankful for his size and his warmth that feels so safe when you feel like your whole world has fallen apart. “Lead on, my lady,” he says to the tiny sprite. She bows and flits ahead, “As you wish your majesty.” She leads Thor to a set of ornate double doors and opens them for him. “My thanks,” he said, shifting your weight slightly so he can walk up the steps.

Once inside, Thor shuts the door with his heel and carries you to the bed, laying you down gently. “Don’t go,” you plead softly. “I’m not going anywhere,” he soothed. “Just getting undressed so I can hold you and be comfortable.” You nod, and Thor undresses and then undresses you before pulling you both under the covers. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he coaxed. He never wanted to hear you make the sound you made in the throne room ever again. “The day they came, I should have died. It should be Callum or Haldora or literally anyone else still alive. But Mother got to me first.” tremors flow through you like waves and Thor holds you tighter. “Y/N,” he started softly, realizing he had nothing to say. He was born to inherit his throne. He was the first born. There was never a moment in his life where he had not known that. He hadn’t wanted it. But he had known what his duty would be. “Your mother would be proud of you,” he said softly. “You grew into a kind and generous woman. I’ve never once seen you shy away from helping anyone. Not even when they don’t deserve your kindness. I will praise the Norns every day for the rest of my life for giving me such a wife. Such a woman to be the mother of my children.” You make a soft miserable sound, and Thor cuddles you, “Your mother was a queen, and she had a plan, sweetheart. She meant for you to live. Being her youngest child doesn’t make you a less worthy queen. They love you. Your people love you. They know what you suffered for them.” You look up from where you’ve been hiding your face in his belly and sigh, “I can’t sleep,” you say softly. Thor chuckles and smoothes hair out of your face, “You haven’t tried,” he said softly. 

You grumble and hide your face back in his belly, your mind is tired, and your heart is battered but your body is tense, and you need to move. Thor sighs. It feels nice having you so comfortable with his body, having you nuzzling his soft stomach instead of trying not to touch it. Thor wiggles out from under you gently and lays you on your stomach, starting to knead your back with his soft hands. You let him, it feels nice having him fuss over you and be so intent on having you safe and comfortable. Your husband is unhurried, working every tense spot out of your back steadily, working his way down to your bottom and your hips. He smooths his hand over the soft flesh kneading with his fingers. He can’t help it. He loves elegant curves, and he’s especially in love with those hips. The plumpness fills his hands in just the right way. He chuckles when he feels the desire rising in you and swats your backside lovingly. “I could put you to sleep,” he rumbles, letting his baritone growl tell you exactly how he meant to do that. He kisses the back of your neck, leaning forward across your back so you can feel him, feel his length pressed against your plump bottom. When he touches your hips roll up to press your ass into his prick, he groans against your shoulder.

“Will you share your body with me, my queen?” he asked, his voice a soft growl. “Yes, your majesty,” you say, a little breathlessly. The god needs no more pressing, he repositions you on the bed, keeping you facedown on the bed and spreading your thighs so your ass is up and your already wet sex is presented to him prettily. “So lovely,” he hummed, putting a finger inside you gently and starting you down the path to orgasm. Again, he gives you no quarter, murmuring dirty things in your ear about how he’s going to put your hips to good use and how he’s going to fuck you until he has to carry you through your coronation. He drives you to orgasm until you’re crying in pleasure, your emotional agony buried in the feel of his fingers and his body over yours and his breath against your ear. “Please, your majesty,” you pant, making him swat your bottom with a chuckle. “Tell me what you want, my queen. Tell me you want me inside you. Tell me you want me to put a baby in you… I can feel it, I can feel that you want it. But I want to hear you say it.” You stammer out what he wants you to say. You know that he’s not controlling his powers, but you don’t want to fight it. You’re already willing, all he’s doing is pushing buttons. All he’s doing is making it more intense. It’s who he is, and he may be able to control it, but something about everything is just so very… soothing. You’re too busy drowning in him to care about anything beyond right now. This moment. His voice. His body. His beautiful hands. That’s all there is. And when he pushes into you, fucking you from behind, his comfortable belly pushing into your bottom as he rides you like his new favorite pony, you can feel your surrender. You tumble into bliss yet again as he urges you on and when he finally spends inside you, you’re both a sweaty, panting mess. Thor eases himself out of you and kisses the swell of your hip fondly before laying on his back and holding out his arms for you to fall into. He loves this moment when the nasty things he’s just gotten a shy lover to say sink in and he gets to tease them. But you… you of all people are not shy now. You look up at him with golden eyes reminding him irresistibly of a cat’s. Sleepy but not as tired as they seem. And you smile. A smile full of mischief. Thor almost. Almost. Can’t believe it when he hears your pretty lips say, “Can we do that again?” But he can feel the fire still burning in you, and the god of Thunder is all too happy to oblige.


	9. Chapter 9

After your husband has successfully put you off to sleep, he lays awake for a while, playing with your hair and letting the dark auburn strands slide through his fingers. Your head is cushioned on his shoulder, and your soft breathing tickles his neck. He’s cuddled women before. But none of it felt so right, not like this. He usually minded when his arm fell asleep, and the feeling of someone breathing in his neck was uncomfortable. But for you, sleepy and satiated as you nestled against him, he didn’t mind. He knew that in the morning, you would ache. He hadn’t been gentle, but you hadn’t seemed to care as you lost yourself in him. You kept asking for him to do it all again and so he had, showing you how to ride him and how it felt to surrender to him. It had been enchanting watching you enjoying yourself. It had been intoxicating. Thor had never had such problems keeping his powers in check, and he’s never had someone in his bed so eager to surrender to them. You had offered no resistance to him. That made him smile to himself. You trusted him. He was worthy of your trust, and that was a prize all its own. 

When Thor did finally sleep, he dreamed. He dreamed that he was chasing you, a much younger, smaller you around the columns in the Palace. You were giggling. Bare feet silent on the marble, blue and white dress in either hand so you didn’t trip. You ducked behind a column quickly, hand over your mouth to stifle your giggles, not realizing your shadow gave you away. Thor watched as four boys, your brothers, Callum, Jamie, Oak, and Rowan snuck up close to you, shushing each other. The oldest, Callum scooped you up like a sack of flour and laughing, tossed you to another brother. Thor was terrified that they might drop you, but each boy caught you, and each giggling protest was met with cuddles and tickles until you were laughing so hard tears ran down your face. Finally, Callum the oldest simply threw you over his shoulder and together with you still giggling and protesting, they all strode off down the hall.

Thor had been terrified, and he still wanted to set little you properly upright, but it warmed him some to see that they loved you so much. Half-grown men who always had the time to indulge you in a minute of play… or even if they didn’t really have the time, judging by their conversation, they indulged you anyway. He followed them until they deposited you at your mother’s feet with promises to take you to the river to look for a dragonfly to keep and left, waving goodbye to their mother. The queen looked like you. Almost exactly as you look now. In fact, no one could mistake you for anything other than her child. She holds out her arms, laughing and you climb into her lap, “There you are, sunbeam,” she said fondly, “I thought you’d gotten lost.” She kissed your forehead, and you smile, “No mother, I was writing a story for Matari… She doesn’t feel well.” Queen Talona smooths unruly curls from your face and nods, “I see,” she said, “Well, tell me about this story. Is it a happy story?” Thor watches as your mother cuddles you close and listens to you tell her your tale. You’re just a little girl. A baby really compared to the loved ones around you. Thor can’t focus on the words for the pain in his chest and the tears threatening to spill. 

He only comes back when the sounds of screams and battle outside burst into being. It comes out of nowhere. There is no time to prepare. No time to think. Your mother, a staff in hand, clutches you to her other side. She’s going to fight, Thor knows what he’s watching now. He watches Madoc drag your father, battered and pleading into the room and Throw him at your mother’s feet. He forces himself to watch as Talona hurls you over Declan’s back and commands him to run. To save your life. Thor is rooted on the spot. He sees you looking back over your shoulder, crying out to your mother, your father, to anyone who might be able to protect you, terrified sobs wrack your little body as fleet-footed Declan evades soldiers given orders to “Kill the brat.” And in one terrible moment, Thor understands your emotions as he watches blood flow over the broken pieces of Queen Talona’s staff. He understands the pain when you saw the red stain on the marble. You had watched them die. 

The god wakes with tears of his own on his face. He panics when he finds you gone until he sees the note on your pillow explaining that you had gone to prepare for the day. Thor lays in bed, staring at the ceiling for a long while after that. He grieves for the child you had been. And the person you might have grown into with your mother’s guidance. But he also thanks to the Norns for giving you the strength to survive it all. You are made of silk with a vibranium core, and he prays he never has to set his will against yours because he will lose. You are a Queen for the age of heroes, he reflects. You move Mjolnir as if it were a paperweight and you survived unspeakable horrors by learning to sing on the inside when they tried to choke your voice. And gods did he love you. 

Thor dressed with care for your coronation. It was getting dark outside, dusk was falling, and Samhain bonfires were being lit. The whole of the Forest of Sighs, all the fey gentry, all of new Asgard and most of the Avengers had been crammed into the Palace. He could hear the sounds of celebration. Songs being sung. About you, mostly. The Sidhe mostly seemed to regard your title as Queen of Asgard as secondary. Thor wanted to be offended by that, but given the circumstances, he supposed they were just happy to have you back with or without a king. The songs praised your beauty, your wisdom, the gold of your eyes, your freckles, the dark auburn of your hair, your light footsteps… it was a bit much even for Thor who’d spent part of last night trying to count your freckles as he went soft inside you and you were panting astride his lap. He’d given up when your lips were too inviting, and he’d gotten distracted. He smirked at the memory. He might be a lovesick fool, but you were no ordinary lady. You had soothed his every insecurity so smoothly that he barely had time to be insecure before you charged in with tender kisses and praise. His belly, his chest, his soft thighs… Even looking at himself now in his ceremonial armor, he couldn’t be bothered by his gut. The memory of you lavishing kisses on it to find places where he was ticklish or the soft press of your hands as you steadied yourself on his cock made him want to see you and drag you back to bed for just a little while. 

Once he is dressed, Thor seeks you out. Dusk had turned into star-speckled night, and it was time for you to be crowned a true queen of fairy. You’re kneeling at the base of a large tree. A golden oak tree with leaves, still emerald green, Lips moving in prayer or pleading, Thor can’t tell. “Sweetheart?” he asked softly, approaching slowly. You turn, eyes shuddering open and rise to your feet easily. Your dress is Gold, gauzy golden fabric that looks almost like armor. Split up both sides almost to your hips to allow you the freedom to move easily while still being so tightly fitted Thor knows you have no underthings on. Your hair is elaborately pinned up, and your jewelry is gold and emerald. You look like a Faery from a story his mother might have told him. You look up at your husband and smile as you wrap your arms around him. “Happy Birthday, my love,” he rumbles, stroking your bare back. “Thank you,” you say softly. Thor kisses you, a tender kiss. The one he was denied this morning, before taking your arm and heading inside. He promised you he wouldn’t make you do this alone and now he was going to walk you as far as he could. 

__________________________________________________________

Thor walked you to the throne room and kissed you soundly before going to take his place. No one is waiting to receive you at the door. There is no mantle for your shoulders. In the throne room, everyone attending is crammed in like sardines. A woman with golden eyes and white hair stands at the steps, a book on her outstretched arms. The not fey are gawking, heads turning this way and that. They can feel the magic of the place, and it makes them restless. 

And then. There are drums. Slowly at first, softly. Almost too low to hear. And then steadily louder. Faster. Until they’re a thunderous roar and the Throne room doors swing open with a crash. You stand alone under the arches. Back straight. You’re calm, composed, and slightly smiling. Confidence in your posture Thor knows you don’t really feel. You walk forward slowly, every soul in the room kneeling before you kneel at the steps before the woman with the book. Thor can’t focus on the words, he’s too busy focusing on you, praying that you can feel him sending you silent support. 

A page trips forward, a long awkward box in his hands. He maintains his grip, only barely and his pallor at his mistake turns into a blush when you smile at him. Thor smirks, you smiled at that poor boy, and now you’ve ruined women for him forever. The White haired woman rolls her eyes but takes the box and opens it. Inside is the Staff Thor had seen in his dream. The wood bound with gold to mend it, the emerald gem surrounded by intricately carved woodwork. You look from the staff to the white-haired woman. You had seen it shatter. She reaches out a hand and brushes an unruly curl out of your eyes, a gesture of silent sympathy.

Of love. Thor realizes this woman is Titania, an aunt, The Queen of Summer. He absently wonders if Mab is in attendance or if she’s plotting with Madoc. “With this staff, do you swear to guide and protect the people of this kingdom? Do you swear to answer the call to bring Art and Joy to the world? And do you so swear to honor this duty until the end of your days?” You meet her eyes and take a deep breath, “I do,” you say solemnly. Titania smiles, “Then take this staff and rise, Queen Y/N, Queen of the Forests of Sighs, Bright Born Queen of Story and Song. Rise and to your duty go.” You take the staff and stand, walking down the steps to the exact center of the room. Power rushed through you, and when you step to the middle of the floor, the sigils set in the marble glow molten gold. Once, twice, three times you bang the end of the staff on the floor, hitting your knees, staff still in hand on the third strike.

Thor realizes then what that staff is. Much like his weapons, it is not the source of your powers. But unlike his weapons, it is not truly a weapon. It is a receptacle for the acquired knowledge of those who have come before you. As you kneel, golden incorporeal figments take shape. Hundreds of them filling the space beside you, around you and in front of you. On either side, the forms of your parents take shape, either one resting a hand on your shoulder. They look down at you, and your father’s figment brushes a kiss against your hair before you rise and the figures fade. There is a silence and then a jubilant cheer. The crowd parts for Thor, and he pulls you in for a long kiss drawing another cheer as he lets you lead him to the celebrations. 

_________________________________________________________

It is a party to go down in history. Everywhere there is music and light and song. Embers of fires spiral towards the night sky and every stolen kiss burns your lips like strong drink. Thor does not leave your side. He coaxes you into eating bits of the dark bitter chocolate you love so much and keeps your wine glass full. He enjoys this almost as much as he enjoys you. It’s early morning and pink begins to streak the sky when Thor finally carries you to bed. You’re tipsy and sleepy as he undresses you for bed and he chuckles. “Well, my queen,” he murmured, “I had planned to make love to you, but I think that can wait until later today.” You pout prettily at him, and he nips your throat. “Your majesty really does need her rest,” he said, carefully unpinning your hair for you. He really does enjoy waiting on you this way. There’s an intimacy to it that he hasn’t felt before. He’s undressed women for a tumble in bed. He’s fussed over Jane Foster when she loved him. But this is different somehow. He likes anticipating your needs. He likes letting you be pampered and spoiled under his hands. As he pulls you into his arms and you cuddle up to his big soft belly, resting your head on it gently, you sigh, playing at pouting still. Thor only chuckles, “Later today is plenty soon enough for me to start a baby in you,” he teased. He feels your cheeks color rather than sees it, he simply knows it’s happening. “I love you,” you murmur sleepily, stretching and yawning. Thor smiles, his heart fluttering. With a political alliance, he thought he’d never hear those words. Only dutiful assurances of affection. Or at least fidelity. “I love you too, y/n,” he rumbles, rubbing your neck lightly, hoping to soothe you into sleep a little faster.

Truthfully, though he really does want children with you, until he’s in the moment, unleashing the full weight of his powers on you as he coaxes you into losing yourself to passion, he’s not in too big of a hurry to see you rounded out with his child. The thought makes his mouth water but… at three days into your marriage, you have time. As you drift off to sleep wine drunk and worn out from your day; Thor lets his own eyes close, satisfied for now that you are safe because he can feel you against him.

He wakes shortly after you and finds you luxuriating in a bath. Your eyes are half closed, and you’re leaning in the side of the tub with a book in your hands. Bubbles obscure most of your body, but Thor can already see the soft skin. He folds his arms and watches you for a moment, love all over his face. You turn the page and finally notice him, smiling slowly. “Come to keep me company?” you ask. “Have you been lonely, sweetheart?” he teases. “Very,” you reply, setting your book aside. “Well,” the king said, kissing your smiling lips, “ that simply won’t do.” He comes to you then, stepping into the warm water that seems to be flowing around him slowly, and settles back with a soft groan of contentment as you straddle his hips to be able to kiss him. Thor lets you fuss over him, enables you to rub soaps and oils over his skin. He stays still, murmuring encouragement. Gratified that he could coax you out of your shyness. He mutters to you quietly about how he lives to be touched and where promising to be putty in your hands if you use your tongue in specific ways. He puts your small hand around his shaft and murmurs in your ear all the ways he’d willingly let you torment him and all the ways you can use your mouth and your hands on him if you ever desire it. 

Thor makes it clear that his enjoyment of your body is not contingent on you doing these things but that he’d enjoy them if you did them. He murmurs his lessons in your ear as he strokes your folds lightly with his fingertip. He praises you making soft noises for him, you’re the quietest lover he has ever had and just once he’d like to hear you screaming your pleasure. You can feel Thor, hard and heavy in your hands and you bite your lip in want. He chuckles, “So soon this day?” he teases. He knows full well what he’s doing to you. The things he’s made you imagine. He can feel how hot you’re burning for him and somehow knowing that he can just feel it makes you both shy and more eager to have him inside you. He kisses you and kneads your hips and ass with his fingers before leaning back slightly and smirking at you, ‘As my queen commands,” he said, pretending to heave a beleaguered sigh, “Work, work, work.” his grouse turns into a groan when you slide down on to him, and he swats your plump backside. The rest of it is a blur. He doesn’t hesitate to unleash his desires on you, driving you to orgasm while spurring you on to ride him and let him spill his seed for you. He does spend inside you and clutches you to his chest tenderly as he coddles you through the aftershocks. Thor sighs, contentedly and kisses your shoulder. He knows that as the weight of bringing to kingdoms together bears down on the two of you, sleepy mornings or afternoons making love will be rare, even so, he’s grateful for this afternoon.

This brief honeymoon where he can take care of you properly and not just thrust up your skirts and wrap your legs around him in an alcove when no one is watching though… That wasn’t the worst thought he had ever had. You feel him thinking, feel him harden again inside you slightly and look up at him in askance, smirking, “Again, my king?” you tease. Thor laughs, “And then one more for good measure, I think.” He pinches your hip and thrusts up into you, making you gasp breathlessly. “We have a kingdom in want of an heir, don’t we, my queen,” he rumbles, sucking a mark into your collar bone. “Yes, your majesty,” you reply, obediently. Thor’s hands turn to velvet on your skin, and the rest of it is a haze of passion and heat that brings surprise thunderstorms all over your kingdom, baffling the fey that are watching the Asgardians celebrate.

__________________________________________________

It isn’t until Thor is in the woods with you a few weeks later that he really longs to have that hazy golden afternoon back. You’ve been so busy trying to work out a way to unite the two kingdoms. Thor is little help, he’s a warrior. Not a diplomat. Not a mage. He knows strategy. He knows how to protect. The best he can do is follow you. Or, well. Try to. 

You move through the trees like a ghost, running and bouncing from tree branch to tree trunk. You pause making a note here and there, but then you’re gone again, 50 yards away in any direction leaving Thor panting and grumpy on the ground. It’s like chasing a squirrel. He knows that even at his peak, he couldn’t keep up with you, you’re a blur of red hair and brown leather, staff in hand. Even knowing that he feels awkward and clumsy. You aren’t even sweating, and Thor feels like he’s been in battle. He watches you ruefully for a moment but even tired and irritable, when you light back on the ground, hair a mess and eyes bright and focused, he can’t stay irritable at you. You stop on a hill, slouching against a tree. So Thor ambles forward to catch up, “Sweetheart,” he pants, “I’m not exactly sure what we’re looking for.” He sits in the grass and watches you. You’re quiet, cutting an apple and removing the core. You hand Thor half before answering, “I need an enchanted Tree,” you say nodding to yourself. Thor takes the apple and chuckles.

“This is Faery,” he said, “Everything is enchanted.” You shake your head, “Not everything. Not the way you mean.” Thor takes a bite and nods, “What will we do with this tree when we find it,” he asks around his mouthful. “We’re going to build a bridge, a bridge between here and New Asgard.” you nod to yourself. Thor has more questions, but before he can ask you uneaten half of an apple is on the ground, and you are gone, up in the trees again. Barely a rustle tells him what direction you went. So he waits, munching on his half of an apple and making a mental note to make sure you ate something today.

Magic burned energy as did physical exertion. You needed to eat to do both. Thor didn’t have long to wait. You bounded back to his hill, grinning at him. He smiled and offered you water which you took before dispatching a small pixie to go and tell your craftsmen where to find the tree. With the pixie gone, it is the first time he’s gotten you alone aside from bedtime in days. You look tired, and Thor realizes the strain is probably wearing on you. More so than it is him. You’re learning how to run two kingdoms while he only had to acquire one. Yes, it’s true, he can run Asgard on his own, but you take your duties seriously. You do not intend to be an idle queen on either throne. You stretch, and Thor holds out his arms, where he sits against a tree, “We’ve got time, sweetheart, “ he coaxed, “They’ve got to get all the way out here anyway.” He smiles, and you can’t resist, you let him settle you on his lap. Thor can feel you relax and he chuckles, “That’s it, sweet girl. You’ve been running all day. You deserve a nap.” Despite the time of year, in your bright court kingdom, it is warm. A perfect late summer day. Under the canopy of trees and with your head on your husband’s shoulder, you drift off easily. It’s been a long week full of late nights with councils and early mornings. The time in his arms is a welcome respite.


	10. Chapter 10

Your craftsmen build the bridge, and it suddenly becomes much more comfortable to commute between Kingdoms. Your people get closer, trading goods and services quickly. Everything is harmonious, for the most part. They Sidhe have a little trouble actually accepting Thor as King. Thor is unbothered by it. Your people listen to you, and none of the Sidhe are openly antagonistic about it, they just view Thor as unnecessary. It’s really only a problem in Council meetings.

Madoc has sent his first “Treaty” demanding tribute and unfettered access to the plains near the Lake of Masques. Advisors on both sides are arguing. The Asgardians for War and the Sidhe for Appeasement. Thor is relaxed in his chair, hands folded over his stomach, commenting little. You are watching getting steadily more and more furious. This is a nightmare. Both plans are equally stupid. “Enough,” you finally say quietly. When the arguing keeps going as if no one had heard you Thor starts to stand but suddenly, in a rare show of temper, you bangs your staff on the floor once. It cracks like a gunshot and everyone whips around to look at you, “I said enough,” you say, your voice never raising. Thor settles back in his seat with a smirk.

“My Lady,” A fey man with an important opinion of himself starts. You whip your head towards him, “No, whatever it is, no. It is my turn to speak and yours to listen.” The man is visibly sulking, and you sigh, “We cannot go to War with Madoc. I will not go to war with Madoc if I can avoid it. There is no need for it.” The Asgardians protest and Thor gives them a look, you are not done. “We also cannot just appease him. He’s like a petulant child, some will never be enough, not until we are consumed and overrun.” The sulking man stands, tipping his chair over where it crashes to the floor, startling you. “Your Majesty, your dear mother’s policy was always,” he starts, and Thor can feel the temper rising in you. The tension, the flush across your collar bones. “Yes,” you snap, “Talona’s policy was to appease him. Always. To avoid open war with her Brother. And look where that got us. She is dead as is any other living soul that could have been crowned in my place.” You Gesture for a guard to remove the fallen chair, forcing the man to stand. 

Thor preens on the inside, you’re a marvelous Queen. And you are his. He’s distracted by the bare flesh of your tummy and his subsequent thoughts about bedtime. It had been a week since he’d been able to bed you and it was getting effortless to distract him. He snaps back when you start to speak again, “We will propose to him a counter treaty reminding him that we are not beholden to him. We owe him no tribute but to foster kinship we will give him grain. And gold. So far as access to the lake of Masques, he may use them per the laws, with passenger and cargo manifests. I will not allow him to start a war with anyone else either.” The Asgardians look mutinous, and you smile slightly, “If Madoc breaks this treaty and behaves aggressively towards the Forests of Sighs, the council will convene to decide on a new course of action.” You take a sip from your goblet and sigh, “I will not, no matter his crimes, be seen to BEGIN a war with Madoc. However, if it comes down to it, I will respond in kind. I will not have any of my people endangered on a fool’s errand.” Thor nods and laces his fingers with yours, “There is wisdom in this plan,” he said. “We know,” you start, “That Madoc WILL break this treaty. We simply do not know when. So for now, we prepare.” Thor took over then, he could lead an Army. He could train soldiers. This, he knew very well. You make suggestions about potential magical defenses and set Fey advisors to gathering materials. Thor sets his Asgardians to preparing soldiers.

Everyone disperses, and Thor stands, offering you his arm. He’d like to sweep you up into his arms, but he recognizes a mood when he sees one. You take his arm and look up at him. You’re looking at him, but in your mind, you’re already planning. He smiles a little and leans down to kiss you. A soft kiss, a reminder that you are not alone. You lean into him, and he gets less chaste, one hand sliding down to cup your backside. When you do not pull away or protest he nips your lip, “I think, my love, that it’s time for a nap,” he teases. “I am exhausted after this morning, and I know only one remedy.” He leans down to murmur in your ear exactly what that remedy is making you blush. “Is that so, your majesty?” you tease back. You only call him that when he’s filthy. In a way, it is the only time it fits him, at least when you say it. “I am afraid so, my queen,” he says, trying to sound severe but his lips are twitching. “Well, I shall have lunch sent up for us. I can see I’m in for a very long afternoon.” You brush hair out of his eyes, and he kisses your palm. “That is a wonderful idea,” he said, and then lower only for your hearing, “You’re going to need your strength.” You giggle, and he kisses you again before letting you go to make arrangments. He loved flirting with you, courting you. Those quiet moments between you, your feet in his lap as he played a videogame and you read a book. He leaned against the door frame and watched you go. He was going to give you precisely the remedy he described and then some, he decided as he watched the wiggle of your hips. It was snowing in new Asgard, cold out, but your tummy was still bare, and you always wore light fabrics. Thor knew now it was part of your magic, that you just were warm. He watched until you disappeared to the kitchen and turned to see Loki, and he sighed, “What is it, brother?” The King was impatient to have you in his bed, and he had no more energy to devote to politicking. 

Loki smirked, “Frustrated today are we?” he asked. Thor gave him a look but Loki was unperturbed, “I only ask that you tell your queen I am thankful for her level head,” he said, “You would have had us embroiled in a war tomorrow.” Thor nodded, “Of that, I have no doubt,” he said, “But I do not think she needs the added stress of open war. Especially not right this moment.” Loki raises an eyebrow, but Thor said nothing, turning to head towards the bedroom you shared. When he arrives, you’re dismissing the maids laying out lunch. Thor moves aside to let them pass and just watches you for a moment. He steps into the room and closes the door before wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and feathering ticklish caresses over your bare tummy as he kisses your neck, “Your majesty,” you giggle, half turning in his arms to look up at him. He grins and kisses your nose. 

“You look especially lovely today,” he says, voice warm. You blush, “You say that every day.” Thor toys with the ties holding your skirt in place on your hips, “I mean it every day,” You smile a little in spite of yourself and turn all the way around to face him. Your hands seek the hem of his shirt, and you pull it off with his help. There’s too much fabric between you and you dislike it. Thor chuckles and lets you disrobe him. He has no anxiety about his body, you’re too loving, too eager to touch him for him to be bothered. He’s spent many nights with you and never once have you not at some point cuddled his soft middle. He doesn’t even think about it when you pat his rumbling stomach fondly, “Perhaps I should let us eat lunch first,” Thor laughs, “It’s true, I’d hate to be distracted from such beauty by an unruly stomach.” 

Thor wraps you in your silk robe and pulls you to the table, pulling out your chair and settling you comfortably. It’s not until he starts making your plate that you suspect something might be amiss. He’s putting your favorites on your plate, and you can see him mentally fretting about it. “What’s wrong, my king?” you coax softly. Thor kisses you gently and smiles, “Nothing is wrong, my love. I just don’t like the stress you’ve been under this week.” You stop his hands and look up at him, “Thor,” you say gently, “I may not be able to lie, but I know a bad liar when I see one.” Thor takes your hands and kisses them, kneeling beside your chair and resting his forehead on your thigh for a moment. You pet his hair, waiting patiently. The giant man struggles for the words to say. He hadn’t wanted to say anything at all, but now that you’ve caught him out, he knows he has to.

“Y/N, my love.” he says, looking up and cradling his cheek in your hand, “You’re with child,” You smile at him tenderly and kiss his hand, “So that’s what all the fuss is about,” you tease. Thor grinned and brushed a ticklish kiss against your flat tummy, “I saw it the moment it happened but… I had hoped to wait to tell you. It’s only been a week after all, and a lot can happen in the early stages, and you’ve been working so hard, and there’s so much to do, and you keep not getting enough sleep, and you’ve lost weight and…” the god can’t seem to stop, all his bottled up worries for the last week spilling out at once and you let them come, smiling patiently. He can’t seem to stop touching your stomach now that the secret is out. One massive paw rests against it, his thumb smoothing slow circles into your skin. When he finally quiets you kiss him softly, “I love you, Thor.” you mutter. The god smiles, looking relieved, “I love you too, Y/N.” He recovers himself and pushes in your chair gently, “Eat,” he fusses, “Please? You hardly ate any breakfast.” You took an obedient bite and satisfied. Thor takes his own seat and fixes his own plate. 

The god tucks into his own plate and keeps asking if you want more of anything. The worry wrinkle on his forehead when you politely say no is charming. He’s already devoted to a baby that is not really even a baby yet. He’ll be such a good father. You sip from your glass of juice and push your plate away. Thor’s idea of a portion and what you can actually eat are two very different things. He frowns but then, he figures you’re probably full after a moment. It was odd for him, watching you nibble on things in small spurts throughout the day but he did notice it was usually more than he initially thought. Especially when you were busy and slinging magic everywhere. 

When Thor stands up from the table, his own stomach full, he lifts you out of your chair tenderly and lays you on the bed, untying your silk wrap as you recline on the pillows. You can tell from the look in his eyes that your king wants his way and is not in a mood to tolerate any interruptions or back talk… not unless you want him to deny you orgasm until you feel like you might catch on fire. It’s a punishment you enjoy and occasionally provoke just to see him frustrated and desperate to hold back long enough for you to behave the way he wants. Once you got him to bemoan how spoiled he let you be, and it made you promise yourself to make him do it again. You loved the feeling of him taking care of you, of knowing that he might be telling you what to do, might occasionally spank, mark, or bruise you but it’s never meant to cause you real pain, only to heighten the feelings of pleasure he can give you. Thor’s eyes are hot and hungry as he looks down at your body. Just the knowledge that his child was growing in your belly seemed to spur him on, even though there were no physical signs. “Should I also move our evening schedule, your majesty?” Thor’s smile is fierce, and you know you’re in for a ravishing the likes of which would make a bard blush. “Yes,” he rumbled, “Possibly even tomorrow morning… This is a celebration after all.” He leans down and lavishes soft wet kisses over your belly. He doesn’t talk anymore after that, no words are essential for a while. He buries his face in your sex, greedily lapping up your juices until you’ve hit a climax, and then the rogue only grins at you, sucks a soft mark into your inner thigh and drives you on again. He seems intent on reducing you to a boneless pile of satiated lust and contentment. And you cannot seem to mind. The wight of his powers press down on you, and you can feel more than his desire. He’s elated that you’re with child. 

It spreads warmth through your belly, and when he fits himself inside you, eager to join his body to yours for the first time in a week, his kiss is tender. He looks at you like you’re a miracle. Like you’re the answer to some long forgotten prayer. “You’re going to get so big,” he teases as he fills you, making you moan softly. “You’ll enjoy that, your majesty.” Thor moves inside you and groans, “I’ll not be able to stop watching you… Those beautiful hips, that round belly. All of it for me. I can’t wait until you start showing, that way everyone can see your little one grows. That way everyone knows you’re mine.” He growls against your neck, picking up the pace, driving you towards orgasm and building his own. When you cry out, he isn’t far behind you, and for a long time as he lets you rest, kissing your lips and trying to count the freckles on your cheeks as he cuddles you through the aftershocks and brings you down, he holds himself on his elbows above you.

You sigh softly and kiss him again as you feel him go soft inside you. With your husband blanketed on top of you, you feel safe, secure. The way you always think when he’s around you. His belly against yours and the gentle pressure of him being on top of you are comfortable and robust. Real. Thor knows that, how you’re not sure but he stays that way for a few minutes to give you time to get your bearings as his powers recede. When he does reposition, it’s to lay you on your belly and apply himself to giving you a backrub, murmuring endearments against your skin and using your favorite scented oil. He’d called this “aftercare” once.

Whatever it was, it was lovely. You knew he was in a mood and he might do this for you once or twice more today. He was fastidious about it, every time. Whatever you asked for, no matter how uncertain you were. He’d even read to you once as you cuddled his belly after he’d been particularly rough with you after a hard mission kept him away from home for 2 weeks. You had actually had to tell him to stop that night. For a half a second, you thought he might not stop but the instant the word hand penetrated him he stopped. He wrapped you in blankets, coddling you and soothing anywhere he had hurt. He’d never pressured you to go again, never even tried to get you to give him his release. He’d simply taken care of you until he could lull you off to sleep.

The rest of the day and into the evening goes precisely as you predicted. Thor is overflowing with passion for you, and he seems to regard it as his personal duty to make sure that you receive every ounce of pleasure he knows how to give. When you tease him, he only shrugs and reminds you that if you’re on his cock, you’re likely not feeling any stress or unpleasantness. He kisses your belly often and only stops his relentless pursuit of your enjoyment when your tummy growls, and he calls for dinner. The poor man can’t seem to stop trying to get you to eat. He keeps coaxing you into another bite until you’re almost uncomfortably full. His grin turns sheepish, and he kisses your overfed stomach in apology, promising to try and stop doing that. It does not sound like a convincing promise to you, and you mock scowl at him, unable to be too irritated at him. He’s just so excited. He wants so badly to love this child and to love you the way he thinks you should be loved. The way his face lights up when you hand him a book and ask him, “Read to us a while” is so beautiful it breaks your heart. He settles you comfortably, all the soft blankets and pillows he can find making a sort of nest on the bed and letting you settle in cuddling his soft middle before opening the book. As his deep voice rumbles out the story, his words like gentle thunder lulling you to sleep, you promise yourself to give him this child and give him as many days where it’s just the three of you as you can. He deserves that. You’ve never seen him so blissfully happy, not like this. And you’d like to keep seeing it.


	11. Chapter 11

Thor watched you sleep. You were peaceful for the first time in days. Nightmares had become an issue and he was worried, nothing he did could soothe you or make them stop. He didn’t know what you dreamed about but when you woke up still crying and pleading he had guessed. He stroked your soft hair and tucked you into the covers gently before getting up to try and get some work done. It was late and things were quiet. It would give him some time to plan.

Madoc was gearing up for aggression, Thor knew it. He knew that a war was coming. He also knew that you knew, even if he tried to hide things from you. You’re Queen. People talk to you. They have to. When Thor is gone, both kingdoms are yours to command. Loki and Kamesh help he knows but The King is genuinely worried about it. You’re not sleeping well and as the weeks go by and the signs of new life growing inside you get more insistent Thor is getting more worried, not less. He wanted to charge into battle and kill Madoc once and for all but he knew that open war still needed to be avoided. He studied maps and plans as he sipped coffee. If it’s going to come down to war, Thor refuses to face Madoc in an open field. The Army he retains is better suited to trees and sneaking.

He hears a rustle and looks up, Beesha is hunting, looking for a midnight snack. Thor watches and smiles a little, “Clever Girl,” he says, and the Fox looks at him, tail twitching, “When you’ve had your snack go keep My Queen company, hm?” he says. The fox sneezes and Thor snorts. He doesn’t need you to translate for him. He’s clearly just been told to get fucked. Thor goes to go back to it but when you appear in the doorway wrapped in your robe. Thor holds out his hands, “Sweetheart,” he scolds gently, “You should be asleep.” He kissed you softly and pulled you into his lap. “What’s wrong, hm?” he coaxed. You sigh and nuzzle his neck, “Just a bad dream,” you murmur. Thor made a soft sound and rocked you a little to shift your weight over so he could hold you more comfortably, “What did you dream about, dearest?” Thor can feel you hesitate and you swallow hard, “Madoc.” That one word told Thor everything he needed to know. “I won’t let him hurt you,” Thor said softly, “I promised to keep you safe and I will. Both of you.” He laid a hand on your stomach and kissed your head. You look up at him and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, “Who keeps you safe?” you asked softly. He smiled. There was so much innocence in that question. “You do,” he said softly, “you’re my guiding star. You show me the way forward. You’re my heart. The heart of everything, really.” Thor pressed a soft kiss into your lips and smiled, “I love you, Y/N.” You kiss his jaw and lay a hand on top of his on your stomach, “I love you, too Thor.” 

He cuddles you and traced lazy patterns into your belly, “How are you feeling?” he asked. “Tired,” you say smiling a little, “But I’ve been told that it’s normal.” Thor nodded, “You’re growing a person,” he said, “I imagine that would make you a little tired.” He kissed you again and smiled, “You’re so beautiful,” he rumbled. You shake your head and Thor frowns, “What’s this, sweetheart,” he murmured, “From the moment I saw you, I knew you were everything I wanted.” He tilts your chin up, “There’s not been a moment since I helped you off Declan’s back that I haven’t wanted to spend my every waking hour looking at you. It’s a pity that responsibilities get in the way.” You blush and Thor chuckles, “I think, my darling that it’s time for me to put you back to bed.” He picks you up gently and you lay your head against his shoulder. Thor puts you on the bed gently and unties your wrap so you can be comfortable. He hangs it back on its hook and undresses to lay down with you. Thor doesn’t push he just lavishes attention on you, kisses and caresses until you relax into his arms. He pets your belly tenderly and smiles, “We’re going to make beautiful children.” You smile sleepily, “Oh?” He nods, kissing just below your navel, “With your golden eyes and my smile.” You know what he’s doing, that he’s trying to put pleasant thoughts in your head. Trying to ground you in this moment. It helps. It’s hard to say no to Thor when he’s being sweet. And truth be told, things have been so tense that you’ve not had much time for sweet moments like this. 

You relax into his fussing and you can see his own body starting to relax. It helped him that you were getting comfortable again. “You’re going to get so big,” he teased. You blush and laugh softly, “All for you,” you say, stroking his hair. Thor grins and nuzzles your lower belly but doesn’t say anything. He’d dearly love to make love to you but right now, you need to rest and once he starts he’s not going to want to stop. He fusses and murmurs about pretty babies in your ear until he soothes you into sleep. He doesn’t know what you dream about but he can see you, toddlers listening to you telling a story and another baby rounding out your belly. Golden-eyed toddlers with musical giggles and clever hands that pluck strings and beat drums. Exactly what he never knew he wanted before he had you.


	12. Chapter 12

Thor watches in fascination as you run TOWARDS the giant garnet scaled dragon with blazing red eyes. “Matari! You’re back!” you cry. The Dragon lowers themselves onto their belly and puts her snout on the ground so you can kiss her hello. “Greetings, little one,” she says, laughing. Her voice is surprisingly quiet, like wind sighing through the trees. You wipe away tears and the Dragon shifts over gently so you can take a seat on one of her clawed feet. “You look like Talona,” she says sadly, “I was sorry to hear of her death. And even sorrier that I was not here to prevent it.” You pat her jaw softly and shake your head, “Madoc only would have tried again. And Again. And Again. He still hasn’t given up. He means to declare war, I think.” Matari nods, “Indeed, my queen. I think you are correct. 

The Dragon looks towards the stone sentries you are constructing and then towards your husband and the Asgardians that are looking on in mixed fear and fascination. “You have found worthy Allies, it seems. But, I would be remiss in my duties to the realm if I did not also pledge my support. She nuzzles you, remembering you as much smaller with a much flatter belly. “Hear me,” she said to the crowd, “I am Matari. The Guardian of The Golden Glen. A keeper if the Secret Knowledge. I pledge my support to the House of Story and Song and to the Kingdom of New Asgard.

For now until the end of my days.” A cheer goes up from the Fey, and to you, Matari says, “If you call, I will come. I will not allow a Bright Court to fall to the Night.” You stand, getting to your feet carefully, the growing swell of your belly, making it complicated. “Thank you, Matari,” you say, “I’m glad to see you, old friend.” The Dragon’s eyes lighten, and she nuzzles your belly, “I’ll be back soon for a Royal birth, I see.” You smile and take your husband’s hand, nodding. “Be well, little one,” she says as you kiss her snout again. Matari stands and stretches her massive wings, black and leathery like a bat’s, before shooting into the air. Thor puts an arm around you and kisses your hair, “A dragon?” You smile up at him, “She was my tutor when I was small. She taught me to read and taught me languages.” 

The god laughs and lays a hand on your belly, getting more round by the day, “I was afraid you were about to be her snack.” You shake your head, “The only creatures that have anything to fear from Matari are livestock. And Madoc.” Thor takes your arm and turns back towards Loki and the other advisors. Loki looks relieved when you switch. He had genuinely thought that you were about to be eaten for a moment and the heir to the throne with you. He desperately did not want to actually be king. He’d done it once, and it hadn’t suited. Thor knew that seeing Matari had soothed you a little. Some of the tension had left your shoulders, “Sweetheart,” he said gently, “You need to get off your feet for a little while.” You sigh, “But the sentries…” you start. Thor kisses you quiet and rubs your belly. “No buts,” he said, “You were supposed to have been off your feet a full hour ago. Your workmen are doing fine.” You start to keep protesting, worried frustrated tears about to fall, “Please?” he said softly, “I’ll be right up. We’ll have dinner, and you can play for me.” Thor can’t bear to see you cry. He hates it. Loki coughs, slightly uncomfortable and says, “Y/N, we’ll call you the minute we need you. Really. But everything is fine. This is a solid design. For both Asgard and Here.” Thor gives Loki a grateful look over your head, and they all let out a breath they didn’t know they held when you nod. “Very well,” you say softly. It’s a tone that doesn’t make any of them believe you’re happy about this but as you go up to your private rooms Thor sighs. 

“We need to get this resolved as soon as possible,” he said quietly, “I don’t want the Queen worrying about being attacked while she’s in labor.” Kamesh nods and Loki watches you go, “I’ll oversee her sentries for the moment,” he said, “I’ll make sure the plans get followed to her instruction.” Thor nods, “Thank you, brother,” he said. He knew that in his own way, Loki cared for you. He was frequently irritated at you. Annoyed with your insistence on being involved in everything. But he respected you. Thor oversaw the troops and made his own arrangements before stopping by the kitchen to ask that they make sure to put peaches on the dinner tray. And dark chocolate. The two things you had the worst cravings for at the moment. By the time he got to the bedroom, you were in the bath, luxuriating or sulking he couldn’t tell. You were reading, trying to distract your mind, but he could see that it wasn’t working. “Want some company?” Thor asked softly. You look up at him, smiling despite the worry in your eyes, “Only if you have time for me,” you say. Your husband starts undressing and smiles a little, “For you, my love? Always.” He removes his undergarments and steps into the water, sitting on his knees in front of you and rubbing your belly as he kissed your breasts. You sigh softly and close your eyes, “Oh,” you say, “That… Inspecting your handiwork?” Thor chuckles and the baby moves under his hands, “You’re even bigger than I thought you’d be,” he teases, “I think next time we’ll try for twins.” You wince a little at the thought. You feel heavy and sluggish now, and you’re not even due for 7 weeks. You can’t imagine what twins would be like. The god of thunder and fertility is enjoying himself as he applies soaps and oils to your skin, tracing stretchmarks with gentle fingers. He loves this, seeing you full of his heir, feeling the baby turn and kick as he lavishes attention on you. Most importantly, you’re distracted. You’re too busy wanting him to make love to you to be worried about Madoc. 

When Thor does slip a finger into your folds, you moan softly, parting your legs a little more and leaning back a little to get your belly out of his way. He smiles, “What’s this, sweetheart?” he teases, “Already full of my baby, and you want more?” He finger fucks you in earnest then, putting three fingers inside you and toying with your clit until your pleasure makes you cry out and cling to him. Thor kisses your neck and kneads your breasts gently as he brings you down. They’re fuller too, your whole body is delectable to him. “Please,” you ask softly, “Make love to me?” The god preens a little on the inside. He’s so proud of you, asking for what you need. He kisses you, hungrily, and you wrap your hand around his throbbing prick, “I need you,” you insist. “Do you?” he asks softly, “Well, my queen. Far be it from me to deny you.” He helps you out of the bath and dries your skin, taking the time to rub oil into it, mostly as an excuse to tease you some more. Prolong your arousal so he could give you more pleasure. And then he lets you tend to him, allowing you cuddle his belly and cautiously tease his prick. You’re getting more confident, and that pleases him on its own. You’re the perfect storm of everything he finds attractive in a woman, and so, when he takes you to bed, it’s always exactly what he needs.

He positions you on all fours because that’s been most comfortable for you. It’s not his favorite position with you, but your comfort and safety are his first concern. Riding him tires you out and being on your back makes it hard to breathe. Being on your side is fine, but he wants to fuck the worries out of you, not put you to sleep just yet. Thor swats your backside and licks some of your juices off your dripping lips tenderly, “Look at you,” he tuts, “I’ve been neglecting you, my queen. You’re in desperate need of pleasure.” All you can do is moan as he uses his tongue on you, holding your hips steady as he brings you to another couple gentle orgasms and then nips your fuller backside, making you yelp in surprise and then giggle. Your giggle turns into a moan as he slides home, “Yes,” you say softly, trembling, “Don’t- Don’t stop.” Thor laughs as thunder cracks in the distance, “I haven’t even begun yet, sweetheart.” But he obliges you, fucking into you and teasing your clit until you shudder around him. He’s single-minded. He’s going to fuck you into a mess of satiated, panting pleasure and make you forget about anything for a little while. When he’s reduced you to speaking in fey that he doesn’t understand instead of a Language he does understand, he lets himself spend inside you, resting his head on your back and letting his hands roam over your belly. You’re out of breath and sweaty when you cuddle into him, pleasantly tired out. Thor applies himself to fussing over you, kissing your stomach and rubbing your sore feet until you’re half asleep. He takes his duties seriously, he insists when you ask him why he’s always so sweet to you. “You’re growing a baby,” he insists, “My baby. You’re my queen.

And most importantly, I love you. It’s my job to pamper you and protect you. And I enjoy every second of it.” 

He helps you into a robe tenderly and walks with you to the dinner table, helping you settle comfortably in a chair. He’s gotten in the habit of making your plates for you before making his own. Perhaps as just one extra thing he enjoys doing though he insists that it’s to make sure you eat enough for both you and the baby. He also likes to make sure you eat whatever it is you have cravings for, and you find dark chocolate all over the place. Thor swears that in a few days you ate more chocolate than most people eat in a year. You only shrug and pat his belly fondly, reminding him that the little one probably gets their sweet tooth from him. 

That night as he tucks you in beside him and helps you arrange yourself comfortably on your side, he’s happy. You’re relaxed and well fed and sleepy. The little one is moving, getting stronger and for a moment as he listens to your breathing, listening to you drift off to sleep, everything is right. The next weeks are quiet as your time edges closer. Thor is fiercely protective of you. He won’t let you venture much farther than the stables before he sends someone, probably a midwife or healer scurrying after you to check on you. 

Loki is mildly amused, but mostly he feels irritated on your behalf. Thor seems to have forgotten that his queen has a vibranium core. The trickster watches you say several silent prayers for patience one day before finally saying something when you turn away to go to the library and hide the frustrated tears that are about to fall, knowing that if you cry Thor is only going to feel bad and be angry at himself for upsetting you. “Thor,” Loki said quietly, watching you waddle away, “Let the poor woman do things,” he said. Thor opened his mouth to protest, and Loki held up a finger. They were alone, so he didn’t have to stand on ceremony, “You have a capable Queen,” he said, “She isn’t made of glass.” He sighed, “Yes, I know. She’s due almost any time. I know. You like to take care of her. And I KNOW you’re anxious about her labor. But she isn’t a pretty piece of furniture. She’s got more than common sense and birthing hips. She doesn’t need you to wrap her in cotton wool and order her to take naps. She isn’t a child.” Thor winced but nodded, “You’re right, it’s just… She’s so tiny.” He doesn’t say more. Anything else would be unnecessarily candid. But he does let you ride into the field a ways on Declan’s back. Slowly. And only with an attendant. Any attendant it didn’t matter who as long as you had someone with you in case you needed help.

Thor is a wreck for an entire mission when he’s called away. He can’t bear to leave you, but he goes for fear of what might happen to Midgard if he doesn’t. He leaves strict instructions that you’re to be protected, and when he kisses you goodbye, it takes all your will power to hold back tears. You know if he sees you cry he won’t go. Loki, not usually physically affectionate, pulls you against his side and holds you firmly. You’re not sure if it’s to keep you in place or comfort you, but he does offer you a handkerchief and a smile, “It’ll all be fine,” he says, “Thor’s not going to let anything stand between him and being here for the birth.” You nod and let Valkyrie help you up to the steps to the Throne room. You had business to see to. With Thor gone, both Kingdoms were in your charge now. It goes this way for two weeks, working with advisors, hearing complaints, attending council meetings. 

One particular council meeting is what Loki and Brunhilde will later swear to Thor was one of the most excellent pieces of Queenship they had ever seen. It drags on, everyone is arguing. You’re obviously tired and uncomfortable, but your judgment is clear and sound. Aside from a couple pained looks that Valkyrie catches and just assumes is the little one kicking your ribs, nothing is amiss. It isn’t until after the rest of the council has left and it’s only your closest advisors that you calmly ask for a midwife and some assistance getting to bed, “I think,” you say with a wince, “That the little one is getting impatient waiting for Thor to come home.” There’s a flurry of activity. It’s been a long time since a royal birth. Matari is summoned to help guard the castle in case of attack, and you give strict instructions that whatever battle Thor is fighting, he’s not to be told anything until it’s over. You won’t have him hurt because he’s distracted. 

When Thor does half stagger off the field, bloody and tired, a messenger is waiting, “Your Majesty!” the little sprite said, “The queen bids me to tell you that The princess is healthy and all is well in the kingdoms of New Asgard and Story and Song.” Thor hardly hears the words and doesn’t even answer the questions being fired at him before racing home. When he bursts through the doors amidst cheers and bells, Loki rushes forward Thor grabs him, worry all over his face, “They’re fine. They’re both fine. Healthy and Safe.” he said. That’s all the king needs to know. He bolts up the steps pausing outside the door, worried you might be angry with him. He can hear you inside, your musical voice telling the newborn in your arms all about her father. You tell her that he’s brave and handsome, and kind. That he’s a great king and a good man. That he loves her and he can’t wait to meet her, he’s just a little busy right now. The giant man almost cries at the door when he hears the mewling little noises his daughter makes in response. He opens the door, treading as lightly as he can. You’re in bed, tired and still pale but smiling at the small bundle in your arms. Thor can hardly breathe. He moves forward, and you smile at him, “You’re home,” you say, “Come say hello… I tried to wait, but someone was a little impatient.” Thor smiles, tears flowing down his cheeks, “Let me bathe first. I’m dirty, and I smell of death.” You nod, and the big man goes to the bathroom, bathing as quickly as he can before coming to hold his first born. 

When she wraps her tiny fingers around his, he knows instantly that this child is going to be spoiled and he’s going to do the lion’s share of the spoiling. He cries and holds you both to him, overwhelmed by his joy and by the guilt that he wasn’t by your side.

_______________________

When Madoc declares War, you’re all prepared. Two months after the birth of your daughter, Frigga and the day after the birth, you carried her with you in your arms as you oversaw preparations. Thor had pleaded with you to rest. To heal. But the message Madoc had sent after the birth was clear. War was coming whether you were ready or not, and you would NOT allow him to take your home. To hurt your child. Or to subjugate your people again. 

As his forces poured over the plains you watched from the ramparts, Frigga fussing in your arms. Your tension had upset her, and you readjusted her in her sling, cuddling her to try and soothe her. Thor found you there, tilting your chin up and kissing you softly, “I’ve spoken with Matari,” he said, “She thinks this day will go in our favor.” You look up at him, “Let me go with you.” Thor shakes his head, “Y/N, you’re not a warrior. You’re a queen. Frigga needs you, and I need to know you’re here and protected.” You don’t protest you lean into the kiss he gives you and brush hair out of his eyes before he leans forward to kiss his daughter on the head and let his fingers brush against what would one day be a mane of dark auburn curls like yours.

Matari was wrong. Madoc had mercenaries and more mercenaries. They poured into the city. You cuddled Frigga as you activated your Sentries, letting their massive stone bodies crush as many of Madocs troops as you could. You could hear The screams and cries but Frigga, cuddled at your breast was silent. Blessedly asleep with her belly full. You came to the steps, staff in your hand, eyes glowing molten gold as you Stared down at Madoc who had thus far evaded capture. Lines on the floor shimmered as you called for the power of your staff and the emerald glowed brighter. Thor watched from a distance As Declan flung you onto his back, becoming a snarling white wolf as he ran forward. He heard you howl, actually howl, calling the spirits of your ancestors forth as wolves. Madoc quailed but snarled. He clearly meant to fight you though you had a child in your arms and wore no armor. Declan side you, your progress forward was steady. An unstoppable force, inevitably moving forward. Spectral wolves decimated any of Madoc’s forces which drew too close, tearing into their flesh through their armor. Your staff shot bolts of magical energy that left visible marks on your attacker, chipping away at his armor and weapons. The chaos of the battle slowed, and you found yourself with an audience. Thor paused, terrified, and ready to spring forward to snatch you out of danger if only he could get to you. 

But Madoc was shrinking away from you as you moved forward. There was fear on the man’s face. The king of Fears was afraid. He stumbled backward, and you raised your staff, “Hear me now!” you said, not just your voice but many coming out of your mouth filling the air in a roar. “This battle is done. I will not have more blood spilled this day.” You turned to the cowering Madoc with a wicked smile, “Not even yours,” you say, “The King of Fears is a coward. He preys on scared little girls and insecure men. He is a coward, he is a traitor, and his life is not mine to take. For his crimes, he will be sent to the Enchanter, his father. There he will stand trial.” The Enchanter slid from Matari’s back, and everyone dropped to their knees, even you. He was old and powerful, but he still had the face of a young man with thick black hair and your golden eyes.

“I have been asleep too long it seems,” he said, his lilting voice filling the air. He raised you up gently, “I have grandchildren I have never met.” He kisses your cheek and touches your daughter’s head tenderly before turning to Madoc, “My son,” he said, “You have always been a brat.” He hauled Madoc up by the Scruff of his neck and threw him onto a horse. The Enchanter looked to you and smiled, “Have you any recommendations?” You smile, “I only ask, Grandfather that you show him the same kindness he showed me.” The Enchanter barked a laugh, and before it had even faded from the air, both of them were gone, and Madoc’s army had disappeared.

Thor surged forward and pulled you against him, kissing you fiercely and wiping away your tears, “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he scolded, “I thought you were going to be killed.” You look up at him, defiant and smile, “just as long as you don’t leave me behind.” Frigga who had slept through all of that cried her agreement, and Thor’s booming laugh brought cheers, “It seems,” he said, kissing you again, That I am outnumbered, My queen. Do you forgive me of my oversight?” You smile, “It seems, your majesty that I don’t have much choice.”


End file.
